So I’m spending time with my dad, who is 83, in the ICU unit at Stanford Hospital. Without going into the gory details, he’s in bad shape. The only thing keeping him alive, I’m convinced, is that he’s one tough, depression-raised, millionaire-by-his-own-bootstraps, mother-effing son of a bitch. I’ve seen more than one doctor look at his chart, see the man breathing in the bed and shake his/her head.
OK, so today, my dad’s razor-sharp mind gives way to the zillion drugs that are being pumped into him. He isn’t quite in touch with reality at the moment. Now, you have to picture the scene. His body is swollen from infection and kidney problems. His belly is freshly stitched and minus its colon. He’s got eight bags of medicine being pumped into his body, and tubes in nearly every orifice to carry the waste away.
So Dad looks at me and says sincerely, “Am I still alive?”
My father is a believer, and I suppressed a grin.
“Dad, don’t worry,” I said. “You’re alive. You know how you can tell? Look all around you. This surely isn’t heaven.”
His eyes took in his surroundings and he replied, “I guess you’re right.”
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4 responses so far ↓
1 Doubting Foo // Jun 25, 2008 at 11:30 am
You’re a good son for saying that…
2 Wil // Jun 26, 2008 at 3:48 am
Hang in there, partner…
3 Kari // Jun 30, 2008 at 7:15 pm
The journey to beyond this life is one of the most terrifying ones we take. One we were never meant to make, yet one everyone must suffer. It is a beautiful thing that your father has you to help him pass.
4 stronger // Jul 2, 2008 at 10:13 am
I hope having his son by his side is his little piece of heaven.
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