Yesterday morning my dad was
operated on. The orthopedic surgeon
informed my mother afterwards that everything was routine — nothing
complicated, no surprises. The doctor left shorty after for his daughter’s
high school graduation.
My mom tells us that my dad
is being moved to a new wing of the Falmouth Hospital. His room sounds like a nice hotel, complete
with a sofa where my mom can sleep if she wants to (she doesn’t, since she
lives nearby), a computer, and even a view.
The doctors and nurses there are compassionate and friendly and have
quickly bonded with my very likeable mother.
In fact, before the surgery, the surgeon got my mom two blankets to keep
her warm, as the hospital, according to my mother, is freezing.
My mother surprises us all
with her strength and laughter. She can
get totally crazed about impending snowstorms, and worries needlessly about
traffic (even someone else’s), but she is calm and rational when it comes to
caring for my dad.
Valerie, Alexander and I are
going up to the Cape tomorrow, and Jean will come down. We are hoping by then that my dad is alert
and relatively pain-free.
I am watching the long love story of my parents play out, and it is an envious one. But man, this aging thing is not for the
slight of heart.
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| My mom, six months after her wedding; October 1949 |
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| My dad, the same day |
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