Today...

Today I am glad. My dad and I went for his pre operative visit at the hospital. He continues to allow me the privilege of being his medical advocate. As we go through this experience together I know it draws us closer. He sees who I am now. I see who he is, and admire him all the more.

We joke as we drive to the appointment. We talk about nothing and I chatter on about the mundane. The elephant in the room is fear... fear that SuperMan may not make it through this next battle. The nurse practitioner takes his medical history and he and I joke -- we don't tend to do the whole "scheduled operation" thing. We tend to get hospitalized in a crisis. We both giggle at how much more relaxed a scheduled surgery is... one more thing to cross of the checklist of things to do this week... But really we know. It is not just one more thing. We are both scared.

I pledge to be his personal assistant. We talk about what day is garbage day and what mail he would like me to bring to him in the hospital. He and I discuss the list of who I'll call with the medical recap when he is out of surgery. We kind of have a phone chain still from when my mother battled cancer. We plan to reactivate the chain to save time (and emotional wear and tear on me).

We joke with the nurse practitioner about what pain medications we think are good -- Dad and I both like morphine for pain and she says they have even better stuff now. GOOD! Dad does not need to suffer!

The hard part is when he tells me where stuff is "just in case." I will take in his daily mail and his coming home bag is in the kitchen. He makes me promise not to freak out, but tells me the appropriate suite will be hanging in his room -- just in case. Funny how you think of these things when you have experienced loss. I can't blame him, I would have picked out a suit too were I in his shoes. Just then a delivery truck almost runs a light and hits us. I was in the death seat so I joked about how I would prefer to be buried in a turtle neck. "I like turtle necks."

He laughs. I smile and then tell him I understand about the suit, I had the same thoughts when I had my minor heart surgery a few years back. He is relieved that I get it. I am sad that he knows what would be hard for us, and is planning even now how he can make it easier. It is great, do not get me wrong, that he plans. It is just sad that he knows. The elephant in the room is my mom... it will be 4 years this month.

As I exit his car he thanks me for going on these appointments with him. He likes to have the 2nd set of ears. I thank him for tolerating me... I can be obsessive on health stuff. I am grateful he is my dad and that he allows me the privilege of being there for him now. I am grateful that I'm the only child in our family without an infant or toddler... it only makes sense that I step into the caregiver role. Little do they (my siblings) know that it brings me SUCH comfort to have this time with just me and Dad. It is a gift to me. I ask for your continued prayers... I would love to keep SuperMan here longer... there are so many of us yet he can save!