All about the glamor and fun

So Dad had a stroke.

I dunno when. He woke up this morning talking all goofy. I went over to drop off the dog and mom told me he had awoken at 6 and hadn't been talking right since.

I waited til he came out of his bedroom and started trying to talk to him. I was heartened that he could walk, move both arms, talk. But it was all weird scrambly talk.

Mom said she didn't know what to do. I suggested the ER but she didn't think he would go. She thought he would get angry. His frustration level has been pretty low lately.

I drove toward work. Was bugged. Had to do SOMETHING. I called Dad's cardiologist and had him call Dad. The doc advised going to the ER, so Dad agreed. Mom called me. I flipped my car around and we all met up over there.

He just couldn't get the right words out. The triage nurse asked him how much he weighed. He said 650. He knew he was supposed to reply with a number, but he couldn't match up the right one (he weighs about 175 lbs).

So they admitted him, he got a CAT scan, an MRI, etc. My sister came down from an hour north, my brother drove 3 hours. I have the best family. They are rocks.

You may know how ER time goes. I hope you don't. Hard chairs. Some judge show blaring on the TV in the corner, way too loud. A lady with a colostomy bag in her lap that she shows to everyone who passes by. A schizophrenic woman, standing in the corner, crying. A man in work clothes holding an ice pack to his head. Hours pass.

They get him up to the medical floor. He wants to leave but my brother makes him swear he will stay (he left against medical advice when he was there yesterday).

We visit him up there. He is still scrambly but surprisingly strong. The nurse asks him to raise his feet. He lifts both legs from the waist, leaves them hanging there in midair for the longest time like a Pilates champ.

It's funny but my prime feeling is of gratefulness. When the triage nurse was doing (another) medical history, the answer to everything was no. No diabetes, no cancer, no asthma, nothing. An 89-year-old in pretty much perfect health. How many people can say that? I know a lucky star when I see one.