Our Feeble Fiber

Dad’s in the hospital. Last night it started, I could tell something wasn’t right. this morning it firetruckbecame all too apparent. Called 911, we loaded him in a big red firetruck and sirened our way to the Providence Hospital during morning rush hour: cruising red lights, breakdown lanes and the wrong side of the street. I’m gripping the sides of the big seat as the big red fire truck bounced it’s way down the pocked streets of RI.

He’s stable now, and everyone comments, for almost 92, he’s in amazing shape. The problem is, they don’t really know what’s going on, and he’s been reacting to the medications they give him. So they are trying this and that, new medicines and IV, more doses and potions, pills and notions.

He is a remarkable man. Joking with the nurses, clear about his situation. Perhaps a little too cool for my female concern. Well, I’m home now. he’s still there. I do sense he’ll make it through all this. For now. I’m acutely aware of my attachment to this man of my origin.

Also, he has been such a pillar of strength and health for so long, it’s blowing my personal immortality dreams to shreds. I was talking to my dad about that yesterday, how I was so sure when I was young I’d live forever…he said yeah, he was like that too; that’s just how youth is. Must be part of some hero’s journey or something; I’m sure Joseph Campbell would have something to say about that. (or maybe you do?)

So much for sipping the Koolaid, I’m getting pretty real out here on the East Coast.
i can feel this: That acknowledging the end sets priorities straight.
As they say, life is a terminal condition. So be it.


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