My mother asked for three things this Christmas:
(Hmm. Maybe she DOES actually read my blog?)
My dad bought her healthcare – effective January 1st…
And they say romance is dead.
Last Friday, my father was admitted to the ICU. I didn’t panic. I didn’t cry. I drove to the hospital.
I told my sister to knock off the crying, told my mom everything would be fine, and begged my brothers to not get us kicked out of the ICU for talking too loud. We laughed, we made jokes, and weirdly enough, had a good time with dad.
At no point was I fearful or sad.
Saturday, I spent the afternoon watching the football games on the tiny ICU television. At night, we all sat around my dad’s hospital bed and worked out who would cover his work schedule the following week.
Sunday, I wasn’t feeling well so I stayed home, did laundry, drove my brother to the airport, and cooked dinner.
Monday, my dad was scheduled for a quadruple bypass at 10AM. I arrived at 9:30 so I could give him a hug before they wheeled him out.
My brothers, sisters, mom, and I played dice games, argued about who was hotter between McDreamy and McSteamy, ate a lot of hospital food, and read grimy hospital magazines.
12 ½ hours later, they wheeled my dad into post-op.
I hugged mom, told her all would be fine, and drove home.
I put on my pajamas, washed my face, crawled in bed…
And absolutely fell apart.
The reality of the situation finally hit. My poor husband didn’t know whether to hug me… or have me breathe into a paper bag.
Dad is still in critical condition and my mom is a mess but you know what she isn’t worried about?
It’s not that you can’t afford it…
You can’t afford to go without it.