Round 2

The call comes in, waking me from the soundest sleep I've enjoyed in five days.  She has an update, about Dad.  He's on the move, traveling to Milwaukee tonight to check in at hospital number two.  Dad's favorite cardiologist works there and Dad wants his expert second opinion.  After all, a week at hospital number one provided no concrete answer for the man who lives in denial and mistrusts the results of the risky procedure he just paid for.  "Everything looks the same," is not what my father can live with.  Because if everything is the same, and his quality of daily life is consistently changing, what solution can he apply?  What invasion can he request to reverse his labored breathing, swollen belly, and confusion?

Dr. number 2 may be able to rebuild him.  This man is Dad's idol.  The only man I've ever know dad to be intimidated by.  Dad treats this mortal like a god and balances his life on his words.  My father has hope now.  Dad called doc at home, explained his disapproval of the results from the first hospital, and, snap, a room is available at the inn.  Get on your donkey and ride north.  Dad's pride is re inflated and his control is reinstated...for now.

Many emotions fill the time we sit in the waiting pattern.  This last week alone included fire and brimstone and much guilty groveling.  Accepting family for who they are is an exhausting endeavor, even for one who has over 30 years of experience.  Introducing neutrality for the sake of sanity is my job.  Well, my sister in law helps, since she's an outsider and sees us objectively.  Her perspective is right on, and developed in less time then my insider's view.  She reminds me that I am not alone in this dysfunction and that I can laugh at the situation...after we share a glass or two of wine. 

My brother's wife loves life and her children produce it.  I feel comfortable at their house, even though my brother is barely present.  Ironically, I have jumped ship, been recruited to the other side, the non-blood, non-Italian, not-to-be-trusted outsider team.  Dad's mantra to the three of his children: "You can only trust your family, your blood."  Even as a young girl, watching my grandmother ignore her brother, her neighbor, as he walked past her house everyday, just felt wrong.  As wrong as when she made us cross to the other side of the street to avoid the man-of-a-different-color walking toward us.  Their definitions of morality made no sense to me.  My father modeled loyalty to accountants, lawyers, and financial advisers to keep his business afloat, and at the same time dismissed the opinions and dreams of his intelligent 17 year old daughter.  Some familial patterns aren't meant to be repeated.

Teach your children well.  A father's hell will slowly go by...

My father's hell has arrived to greet him today.  He sits at the mercy of medicine and limited choices.  He laughs at the predicament over the phone, and his mind races with questions and worry as soon as he hangs up.  He wants to protect his family until the final moment of his strength.  He wants to pretend everything is status quo, and keep everyone feeling good.  He is our patriarch and he is falling off his throne.  We are his subjects, responsible to keep tempers at bay and emotions in check, and entertain our king.  We have lived, are living, because this proud man sacrificed for us.  Dad fought poverty and educational challenges to rise above his past.  Dad adjusted his delivery to sell more and build more and create more than he ever imagined he could.  A self-made man, striving for the common goal of most fathers...to provide.  On this accomplishment alone, my father will sail into Heaven and feel the spirit of positive energy eternally.  Hell has no fury like a daughter who forgives.