Confessions
Ok, a serious post for a change....
I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately. Don't know if it's out of guilt, for moving across the country and leaving them alone (well, my sister's in Delaware, only 45 minutes away, but still, I'm the oldest I just feel responsible for them - weird how that is, isn't it?), or just the fact that they're getting older, and that only means one thing: sooner or later, IT'S going to happen, and I'm absolutely terrified of it happening.
I know my Dad's got this "cat's 9 lives" thing goin on, and I've honestly lost count of what number he's on. Ever since I've been a teenager, he's had health problems. He retired early for health reasons, and my mom went back to work for several years, and now they're both retired. He's been in the hospital more times than I can count anymore, and we've almost lost him more than once. He's on about 20 different medications, he's always being called into the hospital for yet another test, and through it all he always, as a true southern gentleman does, puts on a happy face and swears up and down everything is ok, even if it isn't. I guess that's where I get it from, I find myself more times than not doing the same thing. It's the southern way. No matter how bad things seem, or get, you smile and act as if everything is 'peaches and cream.' I don't know if that's good or if it's bad, but it's what it is, with us.
Anyway, I call them every week and I absolutely dread hearing the "well, doctor so and so wants me to have (insert horribly either painful or uncomfortable test name here) this test, we'll let you know how everything turns out, but don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine.
Here comes another guilty part: half the time, I don't want to know the answer. I'm scared as shit to find out. I don't do well in these kinds of situations - as I've said, my parents are southern and proper and honestly dealing with stuff like this, well it just doesn't happen, so I'm, well, not sure how. The one time I was able to overcome that was the one time we came REAL close to losing him.
To make a long story short, my parents were out to dinner for their anniversay, he was eating steak.... he choked. Luckily, there was a nurse sitting at the very next table, and an ambulance just happened to be driving by the restaurant when the call came out, but with all that, but the time he got to the hospital he was unresponsive, and by the time I got there (I was married at the time, and was out and didn't get the call right away), the doctors were saying that there's not much hope, go say goodbye. So, my mom and my sister and I went into the room and he was just laying there, motionless. I was scared shitless. I had a bad feeling that this was really THE time. At one point something started beeping in a way that the "flatline noise" beeps, and I started yelling for a nurse, thinking OMG he just died, and she came in and changed a tube and everything was fine.
I don't know why, but I went over and held his hand, and I said "I love you." All of a sudden it was like he bounced back to life, he started squirming and moving around and all of a sudden, there he was. Days later he had some temporary memory loss and was out of it, but all in all he recovered pretty damn close to the way he was before (mind you, not all that great but alive and in one piece). The doctors and nurses called him "the miracle," because no one expected him to make it. I don't know what part I played in that, but I feel that something happened when I held his hand.
So, now, I find myself, still wondering when that day will come. I find myself wanting to start writing down what I'd say at his funeral, even though I have no idea when that will be, but I want to have the perfect words written down, because I know I'd be in no shape to do it then. Is that sick? Morbid? I honestly don't know, I just feel that the only way I could do him justice is to find the perfect words to tell everyone what a wonderful and caring and giving man he is. He always comments that I always know how to find "the perfect card" whenever I send him a birthday, or father's day, or whatever card. I just hope I find the perfect thing to say then. I try to always tell him now that I love him, although I still can't be as open as I'd like to. Hopefully the day I'm fearing will be a long way away still. I'm just not ready yet.
I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately. Don't know if it's out of guilt, for moving across the country and leaving them alone (well, my sister's in Delaware, only 45 minutes away, but still, I'm the oldest I just feel responsible for them - weird how that is, isn't it?), or just the fact that they're getting older, and that only means one thing: sooner or later, IT'S going to happen, and I'm absolutely terrified of it happening.
I know my Dad's got this "cat's 9 lives" thing goin on, and I've honestly lost count of what number he's on. Ever since I've been a teenager, he's had health problems. He retired early for health reasons, and my mom went back to work for several years, and now they're both retired. He's been in the hospital more times than I can count anymore, and we've almost lost him more than once. He's on about 20 different medications, he's always being called into the hospital for yet another test, and through it all he always, as a true southern gentleman does, puts on a happy face and swears up and down everything is ok, even if it isn't. I guess that's where I get it from, I find myself more times than not doing the same thing. It's the southern way. No matter how bad things seem, or get, you smile and act as if everything is 'peaches and cream.' I don't know if that's good or if it's bad, but it's what it is, with us.
Anyway, I call them every week and I absolutely dread hearing the "well, doctor so and so wants me to have (insert horribly either painful or uncomfortable test name here) this test, we'll let you know how everything turns out, but don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine.
Here comes another guilty part: half the time, I don't want to know the answer. I'm scared as shit to find out. I don't do well in these kinds of situations - as I've said, my parents are southern and proper and honestly dealing with stuff like this, well it just doesn't happen, so I'm, well, not sure how. The one time I was able to overcome that was the one time we came REAL close to losing him.
To make a long story short, my parents were out to dinner for their anniversay, he was eating steak.... he choked. Luckily, there was a nurse sitting at the very next table, and an ambulance just happened to be driving by the restaurant when the call came out, but with all that, but the time he got to the hospital he was unresponsive, and by the time I got there (I was married at the time, and was out and didn't get the call right away), the doctors were saying that there's not much hope, go say goodbye. So, my mom and my sister and I went into the room and he was just laying there, motionless. I was scared shitless. I had a bad feeling that this was really THE time. At one point something started beeping in a way that the "flatline noise" beeps, and I started yelling for a nurse, thinking OMG he just died, and she came in and changed a tube and everything was fine.
I don't know why, but I went over and held his hand, and I said "I love you." All of a sudden it was like he bounced back to life, he started squirming and moving around and all of a sudden, there he was. Days later he had some temporary memory loss and was out of it, but all in all he recovered pretty damn close to the way he was before (mind you, not all that great but alive and in one piece). The doctors and nurses called him "the miracle," because no one expected him to make it. I don't know what part I played in that, but I feel that something happened when I held his hand.
So, now, I find myself, still wondering when that day will come. I find myself wanting to start writing down what I'd say at his funeral, even though I have no idea when that will be, but I want to have the perfect words written down, because I know I'd be in no shape to do it then. Is that sick? Morbid? I honestly don't know, I just feel that the only way I could do him justice is to find the perfect words to tell everyone what a wonderful and caring and giving man he is. He always comments that I always know how to find "the perfect card" whenever I send him a birthday, or father's day, or whatever card. I just hope I find the perfect thing to say then. I try to always tell him now that I love him, although I still can't be as open as I'd like to. Hopefully the day I'm fearing will be a long way away still. I'm just not ready yet.
posted by Miss_Vicki at 8:38 AM
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