Father's Day

On Friday morning, my dad woke up to "significant" blood in his stool. Nasty, right? Turns out it was all blood and very little stool. Mom rushed him to the hospital and from there she called the kids, Lisa and me. She assured us that everything was all right - multiple times, which works contrary to reassurance - and told us that dad was stable and in good hands and there was no reason for us to come to the hospital and miss work.

Next thing I know, my sister calls me, crying, saying that the nurses are resuscitating my father and I better get up there if I want to see him again. She's always had a flair for the dramatic, my sister. So, I drop everything and race to St. Vincent's.

Turns out, due to his blood loss, my dad, who has already suffered a heart attack last year (he handled that situation well, chewing aspirin, getting to the hospital within the first hour of symptoms; doctors said that while there was damage to his heart, it would be hard to discern, until now) when they tried to move him, standing him up, his heart stopped. The doctor's jokingly referred to it as a "swoon". I have to take exception to that description. Swoons don't normally end with nurses squirting gel onto electric paddles and yelling "Clear!"

Then, later, while Dad was still, his heart stopped again. Out of the blue. So they rushed him into surgery - or wherever they do this - cut a hole in his leg, and then ran a stint into his heart as a temporary pacemaker.

Took them another day to locate the bleeding in his small intestine and cauterize that wound.

Now, we're all wondering what caused the bleeding in the first place. They say it could be cancer. They say it could've been caused by super bad ulcers that were exacerbated by the cold, and hacking cough my dad had the last two weeks. We'll find out.

The good news is he's still alive.

How did this affect me? On Friday night, after the terrifying events of the day, I went to sleep at 8pm. I've been accused of avoiding unpleasantness - that's a common theme in my life, people accusing me of avoidance.

Maybe they have something. There might be a bit of truth there because rather than think more on it, brood on the mortality of my father, I just shut down and went to sleep.

Hmm. Something to think about, for me at least.

Spent the weekend trying to be the best father I could to my daughters. After visiting dad on Saturday morning, I took my oldest swimming and then we went fishing. When we returned Sunday afternoon, when I visited my father again, he looked 100% better. They'd removed his stint and temporary pacemaker, he was sitting upright in bed, with color to his face, coaching me earnestly, from hospital bed, on how to land the big lunkers.

So, normality is returning to my world, I think. And that's a good thing.

Not to be maudlin, but remember to tell your parents you love them, and your children. We're only here for a very short time.