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Wake up text
This morning I got a wake-up text from my stepmother's sister. She sent it at 5 AM, which I guess is 7 AM my time, and I saw it at 7 AM my time (which, given my fucked summer sleep schedule, counts as, like... 5 AM at the LATEST). No, wait, she sent it at 7 AM HER time, 5 AM MY time, but I didn't wake up until 7 AM my time. I am still pretty fucked mentally right this minute, honestly.
Here is what Ann's text said: "Thinking of you. I suspect you are worried about PQ. I had a good talk with Mary yesterday and hate to think of all of you losing him.😘" Mary is my stepmother. PQ is my 81, almost 82 year old father.
WTF?!?!?!
I called Mary (in Lake Geneva, WI, where they live, 2,000 miles away) immediately, but did not get an answer. I called my sister immediately, but did not get an answer. I freaked out. I called my father. He actually answered the phone, and didn't SOUND like he was about to die. He did sound raspy, but didn't seem to be dissembling anything. We talked for a couple of minutes and he said they were about to get on the road to Evanston, IL, where he and Mary still have the tiny tear-down home they bought in 1980 when they moved in together. Their medical doctors are all still down there, rather than in Wisconsin. I didn't ask him outright.
I called Mary back and this time she answered her phone. I read her the text and said "what the fuck?!?!?!"
She sounded caught out, and said something like, "Oh, Ann..." Then she told me not to worry, PQ is not going to die instantly or anything. But he does need an aortic valve replacement, which is going to be done laparoscopically and is not scheduled yet, and he needs a colonoscopy and endoscopy first. Also he's anemic. I gather they found this out maybe two weeks ago, and did not tell either my sister or me.
I mean, that is a huge relief, obviously, that nothing is imminent and Mary says these things happen all the time, and laparoscopic is encouraging, and etc. But fuck. My mom died six years and a week ago.
The icon (I just made it... dunno why I didn't have one of him before... maybe I did, in LJ days) is a cropped bit from a photo of him and my mom in 1965, about a year before I was born.
I love my dad deeply and I should write about him here. Not right this minute. Still processing this morning. I am sure I have at some point, in family stories, on LJ. But damn, there are 21 years of LJ to sort through, now.
Anyway, that was my morning of mortality.
Here is what Ann's text said: "Thinking of you. I suspect you are worried about PQ. I had a good talk with Mary yesterday and hate to think of all of you losing him.😘" Mary is my stepmother. PQ is my 81, almost 82 year old father.
WTF?!?!?!
I called Mary (in Lake Geneva, WI, where they live, 2,000 miles away) immediately, but did not get an answer. I called my sister immediately, but did not get an answer. I freaked out. I called my father. He actually answered the phone, and didn't SOUND like he was about to die. He did sound raspy, but didn't seem to be dissembling anything. We talked for a couple of minutes and he said they were about to get on the road to Evanston, IL, where he and Mary still have the tiny tear-down home they bought in 1980 when they moved in together. Their medical doctors are all still down there, rather than in Wisconsin. I didn't ask him outright.
I called Mary back and this time she answered her phone. I read her the text and said "what the fuck?!?!?!"
She sounded caught out, and said something like, "Oh, Ann..." Then she told me not to worry, PQ is not going to die instantly or anything. But he does need an aortic valve replacement, which is going to be done laparoscopically and is not scheduled yet, and he needs a colonoscopy and endoscopy first. Also he's anemic. I gather they found this out maybe two weeks ago, and did not tell either my sister or me.
I mean, that is a huge relief, obviously, that nothing is imminent and Mary says these things happen all the time, and laparoscopic is encouraging, and etc. But fuck. My mom died six years and a week ago.
The icon (I just made it... dunno why I didn't have one of him before... maybe I did, in LJ days) is a cropped bit from a photo of him and my mom in 1965, about a year before I was born.
I love my dad deeply and I should write about him here. Not right this minute. Still processing this morning. I am sure I have at some point, in family stories, on LJ. But damn, there are 21 years of LJ to sort through, now.
Anyway, that was my morning of mortality.
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