Part 1: Unknowing

Note to Amy and Stephanie: this is my second blog entry for last week. I had to leave town before I completed my entries for the week...

Dad was recovering from a fall that broke his hip (again) four weeks earlier. His therapy had been going well, and the doctors expected a full recovery of his hip. This was not the first big health issue he had beat. Dad was like a cat with 9 lives. He always bounced back, and I assumed he'd do the same this time.

Mom called Monday night. "Something's not right with your dad."

Mom suspected dehydration, and I was very concerned. Dad's always been awful about drinking water; he says it "tastes bad." So the likelihood of rehydrating himself was slim to none.

Later that night, Dad was admitted to the hospital. Ironically, he had been discharged earlier that day from the rehabilitation center; he was told he was fine to go home. The ICU is a far cry from home.

I went to bed, and I prayed the phone would not ring. No news is good news.

The phone rang. It was my mom. "How's Dad?"

"Apparently, he suffered a minor heart attack over the weekend," she informed me. "They'll do an angioplasty to determine the blockage. He is dehydrated, but they have to do the surgery. I'll keep you posted."

Something wasn't right with Dad. Everyone had missed the "signs" of a heart attack. Now they just needed to try to "fix" his heart. The doctors discovered the stint that Dad had put in four years ago was now blocked. They cleared the stint and called it done. Crisis averted, for now.

I told myself, "Go to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day. He'll do just fine. He always does."