I went into the bedroom this evening to make a call. I was ordering Chinese takeout for dinner. The number was busy, so I decided to call my dad and see how his day had gone. He answered the phone with "Joe's Morgue. You stab 'em, We'll slab 'em". I promptly told my dad that it is just way too soon for me to be hearing morgue jokes from him, seeing as five days ago he was very close to getting his own personalized toe tag!
He told me that he refuses to stop living because he almost died, and that in fact, almost dying has made living to him that more important.
I guess this is just one of the changes, besides the new diet and lifestyle changes, that I will be seeing in dad the coming months.
It's just that it was SO scary, to walk into that room and see him laying on that gurney. I honestly though he was already gone.
And all around me little things keep happening to remind me of that day. I want so badly to forget it but things, like when Micah snuck up behind me the other day, startling me, I yelped " You almost gave me a heart attack" or seeing a woman with a heart shaped pendant at the movie theater tonight.
When will little sayings, or glimpses of heart jewelry, or the sight of an ambulance rushing through traffic stop making me sad?
Tonight at the theater, Micah was putting the ticket stubs in his pocket and said "Oh look what I still have" and pulled out the parking ticket for parking at the hospital dated July Fourth. I almost cried.
It's done. It's over. My dad is home and on the road to recovery. He is more than willing to make the lifestyle changes the doctors want, he is gung ho to follow both the cardiac diet and the diabetes diet. He is getting exercises - slowly because he tires easy, and he is going to be FINE.
But I still flinch every time the phone rings. I reach for it wondering if it is going to be that call again.
When will it stop?