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Post by dolly on Apr 11, 2006 7:52:03 GMT -5
Just read about your Dad, Rocky. I really hope he gets better soon. Regarding the health issues between your Dad and stepmum, I think everyone knows what they should be doing to make themselves healthier, but that life-threatening health scare...well, you never think that it really is going to happen. I really think that your stepmum will be so shocked to her core that she'll try and lead the way in making herself and your Dad healthier. If not, you might need to intervene (if that's at all possible?).
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Post by dolly on Apr 11, 2006 7:55:01 GMT -5
My dad will turn 64 next week. Reading your stories just makes me realise every time how much I love him and miss him.
Even though I've said many times how much I loved him I'd be scared as hell to have him get a stroke or a heartattack and not being able to be there to make sure he knows that.
Sounds to me like your Dad knows Maarts, but I feel for you being so far away from them. It must be really tough.
...
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Post by tuneschick on Apr 11, 2006 8:41:23 GMT -5
I worry about my dad every day. I wish he'd stop smoking but everytime he gives it up it doesn't seem to last very long. I just hope it doesn't take a heart attack or stroke to make him realize what a bad idea it is - but I fear it will.
It maybe sounds silly, but I don't know what I'll do when he's gone. I really don't. I mean, I'm a grownup, and I know it's inevitable, but I just can't imagine my life without my parents around. That's part of the reason I wish I lived closer to them... to spend more time with them while I can.
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Post by Kensterberg on Apr 11, 2006 9:18:22 GMT -5
Tunes - my dad didn't give up cigars until after he'd been told by his doctor that "you had a minor heart attack a little while back" -- and then he stopped overnight. Cold turkey. That was back in 2000 or so. He had five years before his stroke, and was generally healthy (aside from his diabetes) in that time. But when you smoke for over fifty years, the effects on your body don't just disappear overnight.
And it's funny, no matter how independent you are, no matter whether you see your folks all the time or once in a blue moon, when something happens to one of your parents it smacks you upside the head. You never stop being their kid in that respect. Like I said before, I've always had a really good relationship with my dad and had long ago made sure that he knew all the important stuff. But when it became obvious that he would never really recover from this stroke, it was still a huge blow.
Yeah, enjoy your parents while you can. Of course, the same can be said for everyone in your life.
Tunes - my best wishes for S. Hopefully the docs will be able to fix him up quickly and with few complications.
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Post by tuneschick on Apr 11, 2006 9:55:29 GMT -5
Yeah Ken, I guess it's true - no matter how old you get, you're still their kid. I just hope they give me another 30 years with them, at least.  And it's funny, because I have no grandparents left - I'm the youngest grandchild on both sides and lost my last grandma seven years ago. But S - being the oldest grandchild on both sides - still has three of his four grandparents left. His grandpa's 87 and just now starting to slow down... and I'm dreading that inevitable day because I KNOW it's going to just crush S. As for S, thanks for the well wishes. Believe me, I've got all my fingers and toes crossed tight that (a) it's nothing too serious, and (b) they can fix him up. He's been living in nearly constant pain for the last two months and it's just really hard to watch. Like I said before, we're feeling better that we can most likely rule out another tumour... and in the x-rays his spine looks fine... guess we'll find out in about 30 hours. (what WAS really cool though is that I looked at his x-rays - and you can see the three metal clips holding his head together where they opened him up before. Pretty rad, actually. He always says he wishes they were at least big enough to set off metal detectors in airports - says that's the least he should get for having had his head cut open! Boys...) |
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Post by rockysigman on Apr 11, 2006 11:37:42 GMT -5
Thanks for the well wishes from everyone in regards to my dad.
I called my step-mom on my way out of work yesterday for an update, and actually got to talk to him for a few minutes, as she was on her way into his hospital room. He's doing well and they're (hopefully) going to send him home today.
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Post by phil on Apr 11, 2006 12:21:49 GMT -5
Get her to trow away all the ashtrays in the house before he comes back !!
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Post by RocDoc on Apr 11, 2006 13:30:31 GMT -5
...and throw open all the windows and doors for awhile. A smoked-in house takes quite awhile to lose its, erm, 'aroma'...all those seeming inconsequential triggers are the worst.
Glad to hear your Dad's doing OK, Rocky...
~
All my best wishes to Mr Tuneschick too!
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Post by tuneschick on Apr 11, 2006 16:11:01 GMT -5
Glad to hear the good news, Rocky. Continued best of luck. Thanks for the wishes, guys... I'm off. Hope the Easter Bunny brings you all lots of fattening stuff - and brings us a bit of good news. |
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Post by rockysigman on Apr 11, 2006 16:46:04 GMT -5
I guess his release from the hospital has now been delayed until tomorrow, but its nothing major. His major complaint is boredom, as well as his balls being sore because of the catheter. So he's feeling fine if he's telling me about that stuff.
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Post by Ayinger on Apr 11, 2006 17:17:10 GMT -5
I guess his release from the hospital has now been delayed until tomorrow, but its nothing major. His major complaint is boredom, as well as his balls being sore because of the catheter. So he's feeling fine if he's telling me about that stuff. That last comment raised a smile from me -- I too am glad that the circumstances were fortunate to play out as they did here with your dad Rocky and that he got the help he needed right when he did! Still a scary thing to go through for everyone involved. The evil thing with smoking is that for many it is SUCH a thing to finally kick for good.... My own father developed emphysema from years of smoking and it got to the point that he couldn't even brush his teeth w/o getting out of breath. Ended up having to have an oxygen tank at home and he'd still turn the damn thing off so he could have a cigarette. He died from it after several slowwww years. He was 57. |
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Post by limitdeditionlayla on Apr 11, 2006 21:29:20 GMT -5
I'll never forget the day he showed up to pick me up... and my dad answered the door polishing the biggest, meanest-looking butcher knife we owned. (he swore he was just 'doing dishes')
haha. Thats awesome. If I were a dad, thats what I'd do.
Its for the best that I'm not a dad tho...
Phil, your posts about your dad/childhood were really sweet.
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Post by limitdeditionlayla on Apr 11, 2006 21:31:21 GMT -5
Rocky, tell your dad you'll buy him a big-ass plasma TV if he quits smoking, or surround-sound speakers etc. Thats how we got my dad to quit. Except we haven't bought him the TV yet, he got sick of waiting & actually bought it himself. But is the encouragement that counts!
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Post by limitdeditionlayla on Apr 11, 2006 21:32:03 GMT -5
this thread should be renamed "the thread where people talk about their dads"
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Post by Ayinger on Apr 11, 2006 21:55:57 GMT -5
Ironically, the original "Bared Souls" at the RS Boards started with a post I made the night my father died...
Don Pitcher 11:26 AM EST, 11/3/99 (Message #2 of 451)
4:13 AM
We just got back from Lafayette. Mom went right upstairs to try and sleep. I just felt like remaining downstairs for awhile. It's kinda cool out - just enough to want a jacket. Sky clear, of course a lot of stars; and it is still down here.
I'm thinking of him. It's too early to feel much of a change yet. A few minutes ago I was looking about the room and I noticed over by his chair, his cane leaning up against the wall. It's frozen there, as is the portable oxygen unit, with its pale green hose coiled on the floor beneath it. They stand there frozen, waiting; not knowing, as if somehow they should.
And then, on the other side of town, I hear a train whistle blow and shortly the rhythm of its wheels as it draws nearer. The whistle sounds its note again and again until I remember another time that I heard the same.
It was the first night that I ever spent in this house - 12 years ago, plus a week or two. Just my dad and I were up here. The reason being that I had to start school early; the rest of the family was coming the next week. We had no furniture in the place yet, not even any hot water.
Anyhow, we slept on two camping cots set upstairs in one of the bare bedrooms. And after awhile when we had turned out the light and we laid there falling asleep, a train came through town, sounding just like the one a few minutes ago. And my dad spoke in the dark from the other side of the room and asked if I ever cried at night. I can't recall exactly what I said, but being just fourteen, I probably didn't admit to much. And then he told me that when he was young and had just moved away from his hometown (this case being Chicago), sometimes he would hear a train whistle at night and it would make him cry. He always imagined that that train might be going to Chicago and if he could be on it, he would be home again.
My dad never told me many things that could be regarded as somewhat private and personnel as that was. And from time to time I'd think of how he shared that with me. He knew how I was feeling having to leave all the comfort, warmth and security of a town that had been a part of me all my life.
And now, 12 years later, I have a second drastic change in my life, a far greater security by all means. And yet, I find I can still sit here and feel comfort. It just came in the sound of a lone train passing in the night. Thanks Dad, thanks.
I found the above yesterday tucked away in a drawer - it'd been a while since I'd read those scraps of paper that I had written on that night. My father had just died about an hour beforehand. Years of smoking had left him with emphysema - a cruel and slow erosion. He was 57.
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