The last time we spoke was Sunday night. There was fear in his voice just before his operation. We both knew the surgery could mean kidney failure, stroke or even death.
I ended that call saying, “I love you, Daddy.” He cried. I cried too. There was the unspoken realization this might be our last conversation.
Today, he’s on the comeback trail. A leaky, partially blocked heart valve replaced. More oxygenated blood should fix his shortness of breath and a host of related problems.
As far as I can tell, he’s now on track to live forever!
He’ll need physical therapy. Between heart problems and sciatica my father spent most of his time sitting. He needs to walk and rebuild.
My dad turns 90 in a few weeks. His goals are age appropriate. There’s a lot he can still do and wants to do. He’s plenty sharp.
Stef and her Cousin Melissa are anxious to take grandpa to Costco. Is there any better reason to get in shape?
Hopefully he’ll be well enough soon enough to exit Wisconsin for a little SoCal therapy this winter. That would be nice.