Dad is in the bypass portion. Meaning his heart isn’t beating right now. Which is scary as fuck. They are doing the grafts, and not sure if they will do two or three.
Also, as is my usual reaction to larger chatty groups, I pretty much want to fucking punch about three people in here: chatty, bawdy redneck girl, the tinkling laugh girl, and the kid that knocked the Mountain Dew over, perilously close to my belongings. Get a babysitter for heart surgery, people.
Nurse just called. He is out cold, and the surgeon just started. This portion should take about 2 hours. Sigh.
Also, there is an Amber and better yet, a Tiara. Not kidding.
Hospital waiting room in Macon is much like Wal-Mart in Milledgeville. The people-watching is stellar. Awesome accents. No yankees. Interesting assortment of rednecks toting massive amounts of Mountain Dew, which is interesting to me since I watched that Diane Sawyer special about Appalachia.
Dad’s gone into surgery. Will probably take a long time. I will try to post on here and/or Facebook. (You can be my Facebook friend if you follow the link to the right there.)
I am wavering between coffee jitters, moments of complete calm, and episodes of borderline panic.
Still in Macon. Looks like Dad is going to need bypass surgery. Waiting on a surgical consult and we will know more.
This doesn’t seem real. Everyone still has their sense of humor, though; Some kind of gallows humor (and drugs) is resulting in more bawdy Cecil revelations than usual, some of which have not been fit for public consumption.
Think good thoughts for my Daddy.
I am pretty bored here at the hospital. Might post five or six times today. Right now, they have taken Dad back and are prepping him. We got to go back and visit him, then were kicked out when they came in to shave his legs. No, i was not able to get video of that, although it would have been entertaining to those of us who know my Dad.
So, now we are sitting in the refreshment area. It has a flat screen tv, and I have my wireless, so I guess it’s not all bad.
Props to Medical Center of Macon for having a pretty nice setup for family and visitors.
Dad’s having a routine outpatient surgery thing this morning in Macon. It is routine. I still worry, though. I hear too many horror stories from my sister, The Nurse. I will be glad when we are all at the lake this weekend, fishing and painting together. As much as my Dad and I disagree, and get on each others nerves (and those of everyone around us), he is still my favorite fishing buddy, and I can’t imagine my life without him.
I really found Fat Tire at the grocery store. For reals. It’s in the big bottle (couldn’t find a regular six or twelve pack) and they had two or three other New Belgium beers, too. The Fat Tire reads something like, “Georgia on my Ride. The first (legal) commemorative distribution of New Belgium beers in Georgia.”
Commemorative, my ass. . . I’m drinking that bitch.
I’m not sure, but i think that a gaunt, horse-faced church lady (using that term loosely) just told me that Tiller’s skirt is too short.
“You know, at elementary school, they say the acceptable length is knee-length.”
She is wearing a jean skirt. She is three. What the fuck?* Does my daughter look like a hooker, or what?
*And yes, there is just a smidge of lingering resentment over the fact that girls in high school must abide by the knee-length rule unless they are cheerleaders, in which case it is apparently acceptable for those who can do a back handspring and spirit fingers to wear a skirt so short they are showing their ass to the entire school.
I really picked back up on my workouts this week. I have been doing them for the last month or so, pretty consistently, but the last week, they have just been great. I had a wonderful run on Sunday morning in Chattanooga. (Pretty sure I could move there if they had decent public schools. There’s just something awesome about living next to a river and mountains.) I did a “faux tri” at the gym on Monday. Tuesday was a bike and run brick (and my biking felt not terrible.) Today, a half mile swim and 2 mile run. I guess it’s the endorphins making me feel tired and like i could still conquer the world.
Oh, did I not mention the Triathlon? I am doing a Triathlon on June 6th. I am pretty excited, feeling pretty ready. If you are reading this and have ever thought about doing one, you should bite the bullet and do a sprint one with me this summer. Especially if you live close by, as I would love to have a training partner sometimes.
You know you want to.