Close Call

If you're reading this, chances are that you are family and already know about my dad's recent hospital stay.

Our family medical history is probably polarized, and by that I mean my mother was an alarmist, feeling the symptoms of any illness or trouble that anyone else near might also be going through.  To say she was a hypochondriac might sound cruel since she's no longer here to dispute it, but I think most in the family would agree she had those leanings.  I'm not a licensed medical practitioner, but as a card-carrying family member, I'm of the opinion that in the long run, her early demise may have been due to a tendency to run to the doctor and convincingly argue ailments, enough as to become medicated.  She had apparently recently stopped taking a variety of meds, including a blood-thinner, before it all caught up to her one morning last April, in the form of a blood clot.

Now to say that my mother was healthy was probably also not true. A free-spirited tomboy growing up as the  daughter of an extremely wizardly kitchen magician, I can only imagine the struggles to instill any kind of love and patience of cooking during culinary lessons in a place my Grandmother viewed primarily as her workplace, where she was Chef and Artist with a shortage of patience for daydreaming teens.  As a consequence, my mother got out of her teens and into marriage with of fundamental lack of knowledge of basic nutritional needs.  I think, however, this was typical of many of the housewives of her era since the fare I saw on farm tables where we visited was generally the same as we saw at home.   This lack of knowledge probably contributed to weight issues she had since I was young enough to really remember her. 

My father, on the other hand, sees his doctor only as necessary .. and that usually means blood has been drawn and won't be staunched with a tourniquet.  His stoicism is legendary.  He's needed a hernia operation for years, but has been too busy to see to it.  However, a few weeks ago, Dad was alarmed enough with abdominal pain to make a doctor's appointment and suffer through the week leading up to that appointment.  

Turns out that a cyst growing near the appendix was causing pressure on the appendix and caused it to burst .. its unclear to me whether that happened in the hospital, but it may be so because Dad's stay was a couple more days than he initially thought. It's fortunate that he didn't leave it much longer or have to patiently wait for the doctor much longer or I'd be writing 'in memorium.'  Dad downplays that, but .. it was a closer call than I care to think about. 

I got a call from Aunt Sandy to let me know ... Dad had happened to have her phone number in one of his jacket pockets and gave her a call after a procedure that saw a shunt installed to drain the area.  He was hospitalized for a few days, then stayed with Ralph and Deb for a few more afterward.  While the stay with  my brother and his wife was due to blowing, drifting snow at Dad's farm, I was certainly gratified to hear that Dad would get to experience Deb's cooking and nurturing for a few days as he recuperated.  The fun part of the story is that one of the neighbors actually went by snowmobile to pick up Dad's little dog and reunite the two over at my brother's place.

Dad is doing well, is hungry as a horse, has had a colonoscopy, is having the appendix removed and will be having that hernia operation scheduled for a bit later .. it's possible the two operations could be done at once, he was told, so he's hopeful that his springtime is not riddled with hospital visits.  He goes for a physcian consult on Feb 3rd, so we should hear any results from the colonoscopy then.

On my part, I've resolved to talk to my farther more often.  It gets to be too easy not to pick up the phone sometimes since Bruce's business relies heavily on phone calls, but this is one resolution I intend to keep.