But then the phone rang.
Not an unusual occurrence around here, but the caller ID showed a number I vaguely recognized.
It was the number of one of my father’s best friends. Actually, it was his cell phone number.
I answered the phone... it was my father.
He lives in
Much to my surprise, his normal witty retort about the weather didn’t come. Instead he said, "Not good."
He had a stroke.
He had lost control of the entire right side of his body.
He is 77 years old.
By the time he was able to call me, the feeling and sensation to the affected areas had returned. Good news!
He will remain in the hospital for a few days to undergo a battery of tests.
I got another phone call last night from my step-mother. (My parents divorced when I was 8 years old.) She told me he was finally in his own room and gave me his number, but not to call him because he was wiped out and was going to sleep.
I know he’s in good hands; my step-mother is a doctor of nursing education, as well as, a registered nurse and a former associate professor of nursing at the
She also informed me that his “buddies” had immediately rushed to his side. His golf buddies, his poker buddies and he was joking with them all. He was concerned that he would miss last night’s weekly poker game and today’s round of golf. More Good News!
I was working on another “father” post to follow “Grandfathers.” It was going to run next week. But, I think I will finish it today, as time allows, and post it as soon as it’s done.
I look forward to sharing my father’s story, as he is a man who has fascinated me my entire life.