November 28th
The first lesson you learn as a parent is that things usually do not go as planned. I gleaned this particular nugget as I was being wheeled in for my C-Section after nine months of researching natural childbirth.
Well, we had planned for a magnificent Thanksgiving here at the Arch Abode. We had planned on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all the fixin's. We had planned on spending the day with my mom and dad. Things did not go as planned.
Instead, I received a call at five in the morning from my mom telling me to hurry up and get to the hospital. My dad caught an infection and was in ICU.
I used to turn the ringer off on our bedroom phone before bed. I figured any emergency would still be an emergency in the morning, but I'd be more equipped to deal with it if I got some sleep. When my dad went into the hospital a couple months ago, I started leaving the ringer on. I wanted to be available no matter what. I prayed I would never hear that phone ring, and the first thing I did every morning was silently thank God that it hadn't.
This was the call I never wanted to get, and it came at the most unexpected of times. My dad had just come home after a harrowing two months in the hospital. He had just gotten the news that his transplant was taking the exact right course. He couldn't wait for Thanksgiving, and for things to start getting back to normal.
Without revealing too much of my family's personal stuff, suffice it to say Thanksgiving, my birthday, and the rest of the weekend were spent by my dad's side at the hospital. It all felt like walking through a nightmare, and it feels now like we're slowly waking up, groggily, and we're not quite sure how our brain allowed the nightmare to seem so real.
My dad is getting a little better every day. My friend Zeke said that I shouldn't have blogged about how great Thanksgiving was going to be. No good Jew assumes things are going to go well without being punished for it. At the very least you're supposed to say, "Keynahore" in order to ward off the evil eye. Or, "Poo poo" to evoke the same effect. Well, I can't wait for my dad to fight this fucking infection and get back on his feet. When he gets out of the hospital, he still has a long fight to get back to normal. It will probably be about a year. But Russ said as soon as my dad is healthy again, we're going to have the greatest Thanksgiving of all time. Poo poo. Keynahore.
Well, we had planned for a magnificent Thanksgiving here at the Arch Abode. We had planned on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all the fixin's. We had planned on spending the day with my mom and dad. Things did not go as planned.
Instead, I received a call at five in the morning from my mom telling me to hurry up and get to the hospital. My dad caught an infection and was in ICU.
I used to turn the ringer off on our bedroom phone before bed. I figured any emergency would still be an emergency in the morning, but I'd be more equipped to deal with it if I got some sleep. When my dad went into the hospital a couple months ago, I started leaving the ringer on. I wanted to be available no matter what. I prayed I would never hear that phone ring, and the first thing I did every morning was silently thank God that it hadn't.
This was the call I never wanted to get, and it came at the most unexpected of times. My dad had just come home after a harrowing two months in the hospital. He had just gotten the news that his transplant was taking the exact right course. He couldn't wait for Thanksgiving, and for things to start getting back to normal.
Without revealing too much of my family's personal stuff, suffice it to say Thanksgiving, my birthday, and the rest of the weekend were spent by my dad's side at the hospital. It all felt like walking through a nightmare, and it feels now like we're slowly waking up, groggily, and we're not quite sure how our brain allowed the nightmare to seem so real.
My dad is getting a little better every day. My friend Zeke said that I shouldn't have blogged about how great Thanksgiving was going to be. No good Jew assumes things are going to go well without being punished for it. At the very least you're supposed to say, "Keynahore" in order to ward off the evil eye. Or, "Poo poo" to evoke the same effect. Well, I can't wait for my dad to fight this fucking infection and get back on his feet. When he gets out of the hospital, he still has a long fight to get back to normal. It will probably be about a year. But Russ said as soon as my dad is healthy again, we're going to have the greatest Thanksgiving of all time. Poo poo. Keynahore.
posted by Lisa at 12:42 PM
2 Comments:
DAMN IT ALL THE WAY TO HELL! (Irish Prayer) SO sorry to hear your Dad is having to deal with even one more thing!
We continue to include your family in our prayers. Knocking on wood here. Love AL
"The first lesson you learn as a parent is that things usually do not go as planned. I gleaned this particular nugget as I was being wheeled in for my C-Section after nine months of researching natural childbirth."
Perfect.
And thanks for sharing about Dad.
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