Many years ago, late in 1969 or early 1970, after three children, my wife was in need of a gall bladder operation. She had an earlier attack, and was not looking forward to another, so we arranged for an operation. My in-laws and friends were available and booked to help with the kids, as I had to continue to work.
At the time, my father was going into the latter stages of prostate cancer, but was resting at home.
My wife registered into Baltimore's Sinai Hospital, and on the same day, I had a call at work that my father was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and it wasn’t looking good. After checking on home and kids arrangements, I rushed to the hospital. I was stressed!
I asked at the desk which floor and room my wife was in, and at the same time I asked which floor and room my father was in. Both were on the same floor, my father was to the left and my wife was to the right as I got off of the elevator. It was big decision time in my mind. In a mental coin toss I decided that my father was in very iffy shape and in case I wouldn’t see him again, I’d better get there first.
When I arrived, my father was in bed talking to his room mate. He introduced me to the guy and I took a chair. I was nuts! I expected the worst and I found a reasonably talkative father. His room mate decided to explain his own symptoms to me in graphic detail, which were horrific! I passed out!
My father got out of his almost death bed and ran to the nurses station to get a nurse to revive me. I explained the whole story to her as I explained it to you, and she was very understanding. I revived, said goodbye to my father and his room mate, and went down the hall to check on my wife just out of the recovery room.
I don’t think I’ve ever quite recovered from that day.
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