zeptember

I’ve been calling my dad every other day to check in. He got out of the hospital last Monday, and has had physical therapy and continued pain meds (oxycotin) for the excruciating pain. He says he doesn’t like to take the meds though because it takes him too far into la la land. He says he understands now why kids abuse the stuff but it’s too scary for him. I agreed and told him that I thought I was suffocating to death on just one low-dose (325mg) pill. I can’t even take half of those pills. That stuff makes me very aggressive and moody. I just wish my dad would request another medication if he’s not happy with the oxycotin. It breaks my heart to hear he’s in unbearable pain.

Still, his voice sounds like his old self, with only traces of the pain seeping through. He’s as strong as he ever was.

Dad gave me details of the fall and gorey details of the hip replacement. He said that in the military, one is trained to go through a series of steps when injured in the line of duty. If I remember what he told me correctly…
First you take stock of all your faculties and body parts - are you intact? Can you move? Then you figure out what the situation around you is like - is it safe to get up or are the conditions hostile? Are you near civilisation or remote? Can you survive in the current conditions? What are your supplies?
And then you try to figure out how long you can survive given the current situation. Once you go through all that, you can settle your mind, and then proceed.
Dad says he’s programmed to go through all that, so he did, and then once settled down, he realised he had his cell phone on him. ‘The wonders of modern technology’, he remarked to me.
He said he phoned his wife and she came down there as fast as she could.
I was mistaken in earlier posts - I thought she was right across the road from him. Nope, turns out she was a mile away. A mile is a long time to wait when you’re in that much pain, but he knew it’d still be faster than calling 911. He said it was “blowin’ snow” out there, with 2 inches (5cm) of snow piling up around him and falling on his face cuz he was flat on his back.

Dad says he had a 14 inch (35cm) incision for the surgery and 22 staples after surgery.

I’ve been meaning to look for graphic videos of hip replacement surgery. I want to know more than just the illustrated drawings I’ve seen insofar as what happens to someone with a broken hip undergoing hip replacement.

I think despite how well my dad’s doing (he knows people can die from this injury and from complications of the surgery and hardware), I think it was just finally all too much for me to take, emotionally.

I was upstairs rocking the baby to sleep for afternoon nap when my eyes just welled up and tears spilled down my cheeks. Silent tears. I’m still teary and still have a lump in my throat. I need a good cry. Hopefully can get one in before the baby wakes.

I cry because of the pain my parent is in and because he’s that much closer to the end of his life. Hip fractures happen most often to the elderly. I’m forced now to face the reality that my father is indeed elderly at the age of 66½.

I was talking to my dad today and he started ripping into Dubya again.

Dad said “He wants to have a presidential library built in his honor - every president does. Well, they’re gonna hafta call it the dolt library…or the dumbest effin asshole on the planet library.”

Dad went on to say that in regards to funding for the library, “there’s not a lot of people want to donate to this asshole.”

Dad then surmised that there’s not a living soul on the planet still for Dubya. Then he took it back and said “…except for my brother.” Dad isn’t happy about this of course. He was telling me that he and his brother were getting into it one day over political preference, and dad told his brother “I’ll tell you what, you son of a gun, you’re my brother and I love you, but you’ll be singin’ a different tune when you lose your pension and can’t put food in your fuckin’ mouth. When you’re standin’ in the food line, I’ll be the first to remind ya of yer buddy George.”

Yep, that’s my dad, gods love him.

Notable gems from my father, who called just a bit ago…

Economy - “you fly at the asshole of the plane, by the shitter”.

Talking about having to go cut the grass today - he has an acre out there and “the grass is asshole deep to a giraffe”.

Talking about the lady up the street who wants to retire and sell her greenhouse. Dad says, “I need to do somethin soon. It’s been two years with me sittin’ around with my finger up my ass”
(He retired from Ford after 35 years, then took over operation of his father-in-law’s motel for ten years, then tried to work in a gas station for a couple of days recently, before being fired for his gruff demeanor).

Please note that this is the same person who, when referring to people getting into a heated argument, calls it locking assholes.

Today was my dad’s first day on the job.

It’s the second time my dad has gone back to work since retiring from Ford Motor Company as an executive about 12 years ago. He says he hates sitting around the house with his thumb up his ass (his words) and just wants to get out and DO something.

Now, this is a man who left home at age 16 and joined the navy at age 17. He spent 4 years in the service from 1959 - 1963 aboard the U.S.S. Lake Champlain, the U.S.S Hornet, the U.S.S. Enterprise and the U.S.S. Independence. Dad was there through the Cuban Blockade, in which he calls it the Bay Of Pigs Bailout. He ran the sonar seat and radar in the ship’s planes, and flew anti-sub warfare though he says he wasn’t licensed to do so - he was needed.

By the late 60’s, dad was riding a Harley and worked on bikes for the Outlaw Motor Club, the Highwaymen and the Hells Angels.

Keeping all that in mind…

It’s my dad’s first day on the job in a gas station in a tiny town in Michigan, when this kid walks in and asks for cigarettes and booze.

My dad cards the kid - he has no driver’s license.

Dad says no, sorry, can’t sell booze or cigs without a valid driver’s license.

The kid says he’ll go out to the car and send in his friend, then.

My dad replies that he won’t sell to his friend then, either.

Dad watches the kid go out to the car, and realises that this is the kid who is DRIVING the car - a brand new PT Cruiser.
With no license.
And he wants booze.

So the kid’s friend comes in and says he wants to buy cigs and booze.

My dad says no.

The kid replies, “You have to. I have a license.”

My dad’s reply?

“I don’t have to sell you shit!”

My dad tells the story back to the kid; they have a new car, and the driver has no license, and they want to buy booze and cigs, and how does my dad know the driver isn’t under age?

So dad reiterates - NO, he will not sell anything to this or his friend outside.

The kid gets angry and shouts, “FUCK YOU, OLD MAN!”

My dad blinks…

“What did you say to me?”

The kid yells “YOU HEARD ME!”

Dad becomes stern and orders the boy out of the store. Cussing was involved, but now I can’t remember what dad said.

The kid storms out of the store, yells on about never shopping there again, slams the door, and cracks the glass.

Dad has to go report this to his manager…

She tells him he followed the law, no sale with no ID, friends in the same car can be refused sale, but that the attitude from dad has to go. She asks him what his first instinct was to do in the situation.

Dad replies candidly, “I wanted to reach over, grab his wrist and slam his head down onto the counter and say I tell you what….”

The manager blinks…

“You can’t do that!”

Dad: “I know! I bit my lip!”

And that was my dad’s first day on the job.

*headdesk* I can’t believe…

no wait… yes I can

This is my dad.

Although I did lecture him a little bit. Unemployment is soaring in Michigan, kids are bored and are quicker to anger these days it seems, and could he please just be very careful in dealing with people because this is not a bouncer job, it’s a SERVICE job.

Now I get to worry about those kids coming back to exact revenge.

I’m amused and yet worried.

Woke up this morning in dying back pain. Had to do the ‘turtle’ or ‘child’ pose, then had to get on all fours, then had to put knees on floor and flop stomach first on bed…. sounds like this should be an exciting sexual encounter, eh?

Alas, welcome to Various Stretches To Ease The Pain.

My man warmed up my rice heating pad and laid it on my back for me. He rubbed my back, too. What a lovely man he is! I love him so.

The headache is a dull pain in the back of my head, now. I’m not nearly so sensitive to light as I was yesterday. I can handle my man walking on the bare wood floor in his boots this morning. I can handle hearing the sound of my fingers on the keyboard.

Hopefully I’ll be able to get some business website work done today.

Oh, and I still haven’t heard from my father. We’ll just see how long this lasts, shall we? It’s like when I lived with him and we got to the point of only leaving notes for each other because he refused to deal with me head on, in person. It doesn’t take much to upset this man, it never has. He’s an Aries, after all. And I’m a Virgo with Aries rising. It’s very easy for two headstrong people like us, to quote my dad, “to lock assholes” over something.

So the game now is to hold out to see who speaks first. Though technically the ball is in his court since I emailed him last. But I’m not also going to phone him. It’s his turn, that’s the point of the matter. And don’t ever try to challenge me on the point of the matter. I will always win.
So I’m just gonna sit back and wait for daddy-o to come ’round.

11:46am Edit: Aggggghhhh massive squid attack… looks like horror flick… pain… setting in… badly… ramping up…

*sigh*

so much for working today