Microcosms

There was certainly no time for music & dance this morning.  I was awoken around 4 a.m. by a phone call from my mom informing me that my dad was in the hospital.  She told me he had woken up an hour or so earlier with a tingling feeling throughout his body & had been unable to move his legs.  Initially he thought maybe his limbs had fallen asleep, but it became clear that something more serious was going on, so my mom called the ambulance. 

Dion & I headed to St. Luke's in Cudahy soon thereafter.  I suppose had I not been running on two hours of sleep & had been in my right mind learning that he had suffered a stroke (a mild one, thankfully) would not have been quite so surprising, considering his symptoms.  But it was & still is shocking to me.  He is 59 years old.  And he's my dad, so he's not allowed to die, or to even come close to dealth.  Ever.

It was a huge relief to see that he appeared intact cognitively.  He seemed frustrated with the prospect of having to be transferred to a different hospital that had an MRI machince & more stroke treatment expertise, & he was downright irritated that he was still unable to move his ankle.  Still, his sense of humor was strong as ever, & his proclivity toward practical joking as unshakable.  He old the following tale with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. My mom was down the hall using the bathroom when someone came into dad's room to bring him to radiology for a CT scan.  They decided to head past the bathroom toward radiology to intercept my mom & let her know where they were headed.  My dad asked the nurse if he should put the blanket over his head like he was a corpse when they wheeled him past my mom.  A morbid & cruel idea? Absolutely.  But it was a wonderful to hear he was still planning pranks & making strangers uncomfortable. 

On the ride over to the hospital this morning at the crack of dawn, Dion asked me if I thought it was kind of strange that my brother and I had talked about how worried we were about dad last evening, & then that he & I had talked about death for about 20 minutes before bed.  Oh darling, Dion.  Have you met me? Of course that had not escaped my notice.  And yes, it seems weird to say the least.  I imbued those exchanges with something I can only term as psychic foreshadowing as I worriedly brushed my teeth & dressed this morning.  People are always looking for ways to make sense of life, & I am no different.  Or, I am different only in the creative, far-fetched ways I make myself feel responsible for life's tragedies. A sneak-peek into my mind:  "If I could have somehow convinced my dad to quit smoking......If I had only bought healthy groceries & cooked healthy meals for him & mom for breakfast, lunch & dinner.  I could have done this; I've been unemployed for months now.  I should have done this. How selfish am I for not devoting myself to being his live-in chef & health consultant?"  I take myself to task over all of this & much, much more, realizing full well how ludicrous it is.  I don't really think I should martyr myself to care of everyone I love.  Insinuating myself into every aspect of my dad's life in an effort to keep him healthy is an impossible, absurd, & highly officious undertaking.   But when I feel helpless, I suddenly have the need to control everything.  And when this invariably proves impossible I take it very personally.  So I'm in the throes of that insane loop right now. 

I'm going to sign off for now.  Dion just tested the water in his aquarium & the ammonia levels are quite high.  He's heading to the store for purified water & is going to do another 10 gallon water change shortly.  We are worried about a little clown fish named Eric who is not looking so good right now.  I'm going to coo to him until Dion gets back.  Because I can't control his entire ecosystem for him.  But maybe I can bring him some comfort.