The Great Unknown

There are times in life when our superficial “busyness” of everyday just screeches to a halt – the day to day routine – preschool, soccer, work, etc. The sustenance of what is our lives can just fade away in an instant as other priorities come into focus. That is where I find myself right now, riding in the backseat of my parents car, no kids in sight, eerily reminiscent of years gone by on a trip I did not know I would be taking 5 days ago. We whiz down the usually clogged and congested highway, free of traffic at this still dark early hour on our way to Orlando Regional Hospital. My Mom drives and my Dad is freshly showered and shaven, I can smell the faint scent of his cologne from the front seat.

As a kid, it is so easy to see your parents as invincible and silently panic at the same time that they may not be. As life goes on, the invincibility starts to fade away and you begin to see time as it really is – how quickly it goes by, how life never quite stands still in the process. In a couple hours from now, my Dad will be lying on a table, his heart literally in someone else’s hands. I know the procedure and basically all the steps that will happen before, during and after the surgery. I don’t know if having this knowledge should be reassuring or terrifying; I guess it is a bit of both. When I see my Dad, he has always sort of been a Superman, a noble chief, an impenetrable force. Yet it seems that he has found his kryptonite.

Now we sit in the cardiac waiting room, dotted with men of a similar age. They are almost all donned in Velcro clad shoes and sweatpants, both of which my Dad would never dare to even think about wearing. We watch as they call his name, he walks off, stopping briefly to shine us a quick smile and a wave. We now enter the great unknown, the next 4 hours will feel like eternity while they harvest his vessels, open his chest – an amazing and horrific thought and carefully bypass the 4 blocked vessels supplying his heart. He won’t be able to lift more than 5 pounds for many weeks which makes Avram’s little 17 pound body seem enormous. It was so nice to see Kade climb up on his lap last night, giving him sweet hugs and kisses, watching him laugh at Avram’s antics.

If all goes as planned, we will be heading back home later this week. Hopefully, we will be hearing only good reports. I can’t stand to think that my kids might not have any Grandpa. They have already lost one and I want to be sure they remember this one. I know my Dad was not that thrilled (outwardly) that we came down. He can’t deny what a big deal this is, that we would put our life on hold. But I guess that is just the point – this is life. I would not be anywhere else. I am grateful to have the means and a job that allows me to travel. Even though I have chosen to live far that does not mean that I want to be distant.

So we will all hold our breath for the next few hours which really is the great unknown – how many twists will this road hold? Will it be smooth or bumpy? There is so much left for my Dad to do – travels, hunting, seeing graduations, weddings, even his own 50th anniversary. We can only put it in God’s hands now.