My dad and I are as bull-headed as two people come, which is why we butted heads A LOT when I was growing up.
Dad likes things Dad's way, and I like things my way.
It took me until I was 30+ years old and a mom before I finally felt like I understood my dad as a human being and as a dad. He's a reserved guy, so he doesn't share his deepest darkest fears or dreams.
He's in the hospital now, having had open heart surgery yesterday.
Last summer, his doctor asked him if he'd ever told dad that he had a heart murmur. Dad said no.
Dad was sent to a cardiologist and after six months and many tests, the doctor determined that dad had a pretty severe leaky aortic valve. Up until December, Dad never had any symptoms.
Even after he developed symptoms, he and mom still walked every day at the mall, taking 3 laps around. Prior to this, Dad walked and went to the gym nearly every day. He also gardens and plays golf in good weather. Dad is not a sit-on-his-duff kind of guy. His doctor said had he been that way, he likely would have had to have this procedure done 10 years ago.
When he had all the pre-tests done, including checking his carotid arteries, the technician said if he was her dad, she'd have nothing to worry about.
For being 76 years old, dad is in pretty fine shape.
Yesterday was rough, as is any open heart surgery.
He had 3 bypasses that the surgeon took care of, even though they were minor (50% blockage). The doctor figured if he was in there anyway and could treat them, he might as well.
The surgeon also discovered that dad's tricuspid valve was leaking, so he repaired that.
(Apparently, this happened as a result of the heart having to work harder because of the aortic valve issue.)
Of course, this was rough for dad since he was going through it, but he was being pumped with all sorts of sedating drugs.
My mother was not, and she is so adept at worrying she could win a gold medal if worrying was an Olympic event.
Dad was taken back into surgery last night as a precautionary measure to see if all the blood draining from his three chest tubes was an active bleed. Fortunately, it was not.
D has been up at the hospital with my mom.
He said they gave dad a breathing apparatus to use to improve his lung function and keep goop from building up.
The doctor told dad he'd be lucky to get to 500 today.
Dad started breathing and when D asked what he got to, Dad raised his hand up: 5 fingers.
Don't ever tell dad he probably won't be able to do something because he will then take absolute delight in proving you wrong.
It got him through two knee replacement surgeries. Six weeks after one of them he was hiking with the family at Empire Bluff Trail in Michigan.
It got him through back surgery when I was a kid.
It got him through melanoma surgery when I was pregnant with G.
It got him through 20 years of ulcerative colitis and then the removal of his colon when I was newly pregnant with M.
This determination and pig-headedness are attributes of my dad that have always driven me crazy when they interfered with my own determination and pig-headedness, but when it comes to recovering from surgery and not giving up when you can still fight, I'm so appreciative for it.
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