LIVED TO TELL

Yesterday my dad had surgery to repair his thumb and shoulder. He was able to have both surgeries done on the same day by two different doctors and surgical teams. Since I myself am an avid hater of anesthesia, I can really appreciate the value of this "working together for the greater good" method of surgery.

Tonight we were able to visit him at home and he was doing well and in good spirits. He was excited to show us his helmet and armored clothes to emphasize how much worse his injuries could have been... As if distracting us from letting loose a lecture on the dangers of old men riding motorcycles. It didn't work. We lectured anyway- a little bit. He also showed us pictures taken a couple days after the accident of his bruising and road-rash. The entire right side of his body is a huge bruise. It was ugly and shocking, and I'm not JUST referring to his old man bum peeking out in some of the photos. Giggle, giggle, hee hee...just kidding Dad! Kind of...

Then I took some pictures of my own and warned him I would be blogging about it, again.

This is just a small section of the bruising


His best scabs and rash are hidden under bandages and clothing


Hwellp, now I know where I got my legs from...


Then he told us the whole story of how it all happened, and how plainly and simply grateful he is to be here. And I told him how I knew before it happened that it would happen. And I don't know how I knew. Sometimes I just know. And after enough incidences of sometimes knowing, I've learned that the only thing I can do is wait for the phone call. Some things can't be explained, and I'm okay with that.

He's here, he's healing, he's a good grandpa, and I'm okay with that too.