This is long and drawn out, and serves no other purpose except to get it off my chest. It's been a long fucking day...
I wanted to start this off with something creative, but I'm too fucking exhausted and burned out for anything except from-the-hip-typing so here it is. Forgive my spelling of medical terminology, but I never fucking went to Med School and I really don't give a fuck right now! In fact, my medical terminology might be askew too, but I don't give a fuck about that either!
My Dad had a heart attack last night. It was a "mild" heart attack (whatever the fuck that means) and my Mom didn’t even call me until I was climbing out of bed for work this morning. WTF? My folks have always asked me to leave my cell phone on 24/7 in case of an emergency or if they needed to get ahold of me right away. I guess this wasn't an emergency? Again, WTF?
I got up in a panic to find my wallet, phone, knife, smokes, keys and whatever shit I'm used to having in my pockets on a daily basis and I hauled ass down to the hospital only to have to weave my way through hords of Mexicans in the lobby and up to the ICU. By the time I arrived, they were already getting him ready to head down for an Angiogram. I only got to see him for about 10 minutes before they hauled him away. Damn that was hard seeing my Dad with tubes and wires all hooked up to him and beeps and noises coming from the EKG and other computerized shit in the room. It was really hard for me to keep it together and try to be strong for my Dad. And my Mom. I've never seen my Dad in that kind of shape; depressed, down for the count and on his way to the unknown room of many different possibilities, whether good or bad. I remember when I was about 12 or 13 years old and he cut his thumb off on the table saw and calmly said to my Mom, "Honey, I need you to take me to the emergency room. I just cut my thumb off." That was amazing to me! It blew me away! It still does. I don't know his disposition when my Mom hauled his ass to the ER, but I know he was just trying to stay strong in front of us boys. I could see the depressed worry in his eyes today, but he was crackin' jokes and asking me about fishing and my job and shit. It just dawned on me that he was trying to stay strong for my Mom and me, so we didn't worry too much. We were trying to stay strong for him. We were all thinking and worrying about the same things but couldn't show it, or I guess...didn't show it. We were all scared. Fuck, I still am!
My Dad has always been the calm, strong Dad who always put his family first, even before himself. To the day, he still does. There he was in a vulnerable position, not knowing WTF kind of situation he was in, scared to death, and he was more concerned with the concern in the eyes of my Mom and me. I never even got to meet his Dad. My Grandfather died of a heart attack when my Dad was nine years old. His only male influences were the neighborhood Dads that took him in and raised him to be the great man that he is today. My Dad is the biggest hero I know and will ever know! I can only hope to be as big of a man as he has been for these 36 years of my existance in this fucked up world!
Back to the hospital:
The hour or so that it took for the Angiogram seemed like an eternity. I must've smoked a half a pack waiting for the results. It didn't help any that the waiting room was filled with loud, obnoxious wetbacks talking at the tops of their lungs on cell phones. I couldn't even retain a consious thought with all the jibberish and the double-digit screaming anchor babies in the room. I just wanted to explode and scream, "STFU! This isn't a pinata party putos! It's a gotdamn hospital and you're not the only ones in here! Some of us actually pay taxes for you scumbags to come here and rape our system! Take your fucking pinata party about 8 miles south and go fuck yourselves! FUCK YOU!"
Finally Dr. _______ comes out and tells us that my Dad's rear artery of his heart is hardened and clogged, and that the Stints (sp?) couldn't even be inserted into said artery. I don't know shit about medical terminology or much about medicine, so I'm just sitting there trying to hear this guy over the Little Tijuana waiting room I was trapped in, and try to understand WTF he was saying. Doctor dude...Just fucking tell me that my Dad is going to be alright! At least speak to me like I'm ignorant about the whole procedure, because I am fucking ignorant about the whole procedure! Just the specifics would be nice.
So they have him on some medication to increase the flow of blood to/from his heart and he’s on 24 hour observation for the night. If everything checks out good, he’s going to be able to go home tomorrow. Then, in two weeks he has to come back for a “Stress Test” on his heart. If they see no signs of improvement, he’s going to have to get by-pass surgery. One thing the Doc kept stressing was that they don't just do by-passes on a whim. It's kinda like a last resort type of thing because of the possible complications.
On top of all this, he has a mild case of Emphysema, so if you have any good prayers to spare, my Dad and my family sure could use a few right about now.
After my Dad woke up we chatted for a while and he told us all, “Just go home; there’s nothing you can do, so go home. I want to get some sleep!” I told him that I wanted to stay and hang out with him and he said, "What? You wanna watch me sleep? Go home."
That right there was a good sign, because that’s how my Dad has always been…Ornery, stern and stubborn. It was good to see the fire in him! I guess the gun-toting, beer-drinking, liberal-bashing mad-fisherman doesn’t fall far from the ol’ tree huh?
I’m gonna go into work for a few hours tomorrow and then go hang out with him once they start letting visitors into the ICU around 9 a.m. I wanted to bring him some Playboy’s, but that’s probably not a good idea for a man with a heart condition. Maybe I’ll pick him up a couple Western Outdoor News and Guns & Ammo magazines. The only thing he wanted today was the Sports page out of the paper so he could check the fish reports. I love this man!!
This is me and Dad at Lake Miramar a couple years ago. I've never had a better day in my life than a day fishin' with my Pops!
If you made it this far, thank you for listening. I just had to get this shit off my chest. Now it's time for some Patron and then my pillow.