It's been awhile since I've added anything here, in this little spot of the Internet I call "ME" space. Not that there hasn't been anything to write about, I guess I just haven't felt the itch to do so.
So, without further ado, here is somewhat of a update, for those who wondered if I fell off the face of the earth, or if my laptop finally gave up the ghost:
My father had open-heart surgery Tuesday to replace his aortic valve. It was discovered at that time he would also need a bypass. He is doing as well as one can expect after having one's sternum cleaved open then wired back together. The surgery was very successful, and I will be returning to see him this weekend and hopefully bring him home. He's in one of the premier cardiac hospitals in the state about a two hours drive away, but as I sit here at my home, I feel like I'm thousands of miles away. I know that right now he is in very capable hands, but I still feel torn.
The ICU holding room is a very surreal place. It sits inside its own space/time continuum...like Vegas, but without the flashing lights and garish carpeting. Families huddle around in their small areas of real estate as if they are trying to collect warmth from an invisible campfire. They wait for surgical updates, biding their time until they can spend their allotted 15-20 minutes with recovering loved ones. Or loved ones who are trying to recover, or those who will never recover.
My father, in his situation, makes me realize, despite all the pain he is in, how fortunate our little family clan is.
We, being my husband, my sister and myself, spent some time with an elderly woman whose husband of sixty-two years was recovering slowly from a heart attack. She has been living in the ICU waiting room for almost a month. She had her suitcase and carry-all full of bottled water along side the chair she would sleep in at night. Quietly she would work on crossword puzzles, occasionally checking her watch to see if enough time had passed until she could spend another twenty minutes with her husband. That is how time passes in ICU, in two hour blocks and twenty minute increments.
When my husband asked her if she was staying at a hotel nearby, she shook her head and replied,"I've been with him for over sixty years, I'm not leaving him now."
Whenever I want to picture "strength" from now on, I will forever see this woman in my mind.
About a month ago, I started taking a anti-depressant which is doing great for the black moods, but it has really done a number on my creative processes. I feel as if someone shoved cotton in the wanting-to-write center of my brain. Or, it could be as simple as the fact that I have removed "Sarah Palin" from my Google news alerts. My sister, who has some novels bouncing around in her head, waiting to be set free tells me that the lack of impetus to write lessens with time, so I will try and be patient. So, hopefully soon, I will emerge again and prolifically blog once more.
Lucky you, you dear readers.