I am sitting in a waiting room. More specifically, I am sitting in a fairly nice waiting room that is part of the cardio vascular facility at Arlington Memorial Hospital. My father is having a triple bypass as I type.
It’s hard not to be at least a little bit worried, but for the most part I’m not overly concerned. This is a fairly routine procedure, if you find that having your chest cracked open and your heart stopped “routine.”
Besides as a friend of mine said, there isn’t any other option but for things to turn out OK.
I was on the way to the airport when I got the news he was supposed to have surgery immediately. My boss and company were kind enough to find a replacement for my gig and tell me to stay with my family. I know that my parents are comforted by my being here and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
My dad was in fairly good spirits this morning before he went in, but I can tell he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
I look at it like this – he had a major heart attack and lost about 40% of his heart muscle. At the time, the docs told him that if he did everything that they tell him to do that they would give him another five years. That was just over 10 years ago. I feel pretty lucky to have him around. I already got an extra five years with him. Both my parents mean the world to me.
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