So my dad went and had himself a heart attack. Not very thoughtful of him, really, considering how many people love him.
Also, he's 59, so way to spring health scares on us early like that. One day you're pushing the snowblower around like a boss and the next you're all "I don't feel well" and "Oh, it looks like I've had a heart attack."
Not cool, dad. Not cool.
Everything is ok right now. He's in the hospital awaiting some tests and possible repairs depending on what they find. He's in good spirits, cracking some jokes, being awesome like usual. The rest of us? Well, let's just say I had three brownies and four cookies last night, and leave it at that.
The irony of eating cholesterol-laden foods when your dad just had a heart attack has not escaped me.
Also, I had three slices of pizza for dinner. I figure if we're going to be forthcoming, let's do it right.
My mom is keeping everything together like the strong woman she is. But her health has been poor for years, and if she wears herself down she'll get really sick. Given she also has Mike at home, my youngest brother (who has Downs Syndrome), the rest of us are trying to help out where we can. Yesterday I had Mike over for (evil pre-brownie) pizza. He's coming over today too.
But before that, my sister and I brought "get well soon" cards to my dad in the hospital. Here's a sample:
I make light, but honestly I'm just a giant stress ball. With spikes on it, like that heart. The eczema on my hand caused by stress? There's so much of it that it's now growing an extra hand out of my hand so it can occupy new, itchy, painful space.
My dad is technically my step dad, but that just makes him even more amazing. My biological father left when I was a baby, and my dad stepped in to take that important roll before I was even out of diapers. It takes a very special man to not only love his wife, but love her child like his own. While my parents went on to grow their family, I've never felt like he loves me any less. I'm his little girl and he's my dad, plain and simple. I'm so lucky.
So if you could please think good thoughts for my awesome dad with the not-so-awesome ticker, I'd appreciate it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about due for a cookie and a stress cry.
And then maybe another cookie.
Also, he's 59, so way to spring health scares on us early like that. One day you're pushing the snowblower around like a boss and the next you're all "I don't feel well" and "Oh, it looks like I've had a heart attack."
Not cool, dad. Not cool.
Everything is ok right now. He's in the hospital awaiting some tests and possible repairs depending on what they find. He's in good spirits, cracking some jokes, being awesome like usual. The rest of us? Well, let's just say I had three brownies and four cookies last night, and leave it at that.
The irony of eating cholesterol-laden foods when your dad just had a heart attack has not escaped me.
Also, I had three slices of pizza for dinner. I figure if we're going to be forthcoming, let's do it right.
My mom is keeping everything together like the strong woman she is. But her health has been poor for years, and if she wears herself down she'll get really sick. Given she also has Mike at home, my youngest brother (who has Downs Syndrome), the rest of us are trying to help out where we can. Yesterday I had Mike over for (evil pre-brownie) pizza. He's coming over today too.
But before that, my sister and I brought "get well soon" cards to my dad in the hospital. Here's a sample:
 |
| Spawnling's card, complete with a picture of he and grandpa, who are quite possibly on some kind of hallucinogen. |
 |
| Feeling slightly threatened, my sister felt she should make a card like Spawn's. But in her version, they're on their way to get more botox. |
 |
| Mike made a card as well. It has my dad's favourite snack; peanuts. And the heart is um, well... uh.... Yeah. Appropriate. |
I make light, but honestly I'm just a giant stress ball. With spikes on it, like that heart. The eczema on my hand caused by stress? There's so much of it that it's now growing an extra hand out of my hand so it can occupy new, itchy, painful space.
My dad is technically my step dad, but that just makes him even more amazing. My biological father left when I was a baby, and my dad stepped in to take that important roll before I was even out of diapers. It takes a very special man to not only love his wife, but love her child like his own. While my parents went on to grow their family, I've never felt like he loves me any less. I'm his little girl and he's my dad, plain and simple. I'm so lucky.
So if you could please think good thoughts for my awesome dad with the not-so-awesome ticker, I'd appreciate it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about due for a cookie and a stress cry.
And then maybe another cookie.