Well. Things Didn’t Go as Expected.

As I wrote about last week, my dad had his outpatient ERCP procedure Wednesday morning. Before it started, everything felt reassuring. Dr. Wilen is exactly the kind of physician you hope to meet when someone you love is being wheeled into a procedure room. He is skillful, attentive, dedicated, and genuinely kind. He also happens to be remarkably handsome, which probably has nothing to do with his medical abilities, but well, it feels worth mentioning.

The procedure itself went well. Unfortunately, everything after that became considerably more complicated. What was supposed to be a routine outpatient procedure turned into four days in the hospital. I spent my days camped out in the hospital recliner next to his bed writing, watching TV, napping, and eating cafeteria food. Thankfully, he finally came home Saturday.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I woke up one night with chest pain. I was home alone and, if I’m being honest, I panicked a little. I chewed up three aspirin while sitting on the edge of the bed wondering whether I was having a heart attack. At one point I found a piece of paper and wrote a short note to my family telling them I loved them, and I scribbled down a few passwords. Just in case. I don’t currently have health insurance. I’m working on it, but in the meantime the possibility of a medical emergency occupies a lot of my thoughts. So I did what I suspect a lot of people do. I googled it to affirm the worst, hoped for the best, and eventually fell back asleep.

My dad finally came home Saturday. We were both happy to be back in our familiar routines, so Sunday morning we headed to Bad Rabbit for breakfast. Five minutes after we sat down, he started shaking and became so lightheaded that I thought he might pass out right there in the middle of the restaurant. I boxed up our breakfast, got him back to the car, and headed home. Once there, I gave him one of the medications the hospital had prescribed for dizziness and got him settled on the couch with a blanket and a movie. He chose Trading Places. Eddie Murphy to the rescue. A couple hours later he was doing much better.

It’s Monday morning and as I write this, we are sitting at the picnic table at the laundromat. He’s reading Understanding Wood Finishing by Bob Flexner. Every couple of paragraphs he looks up and tells me all about what he just read or shares a story about how he used those techniques in his own life. Of course, this was before electricity. Before civilization. I think maybe he was actually a caveman.

---

All are welcome here, but if you’re in a place to offer support, a paid subscription ($5/month or $50/year) is deeply appreciated. It’s not required, but it helps me keep showing up, to write, to share, to keep this thread of connection alive.

Out here in the countryside, caring for my folks is deeply meaningful, but often lonely. Writing about my experience and sharing it with you helps me stay grounded, inspired, and not quite so alone. Think of a paid subscription as a tip jar for the kind of storytelling that makes space for truth, tenderness, and the beautiful mess of being human.