Sunday, June 17, 2001.

Hatless Baldman Index: 45 (+2)
Inevitability Index: 37 (no change, love conquers all).
My Japanese Name Is: Sukotto-chan! Thanks to Empress Sei (who actually updated!).
Are you split down the middle like a samurai's bamboo practicing pole?
Then join the Hapa Project, courtesy of Ms. Gotlucky.

 

SOMEONE ELSE'S FATHER

Last week :

MOM : "Is next Sunday Father's Day?"

ME : "I have no idea. What do I care?"

I should care since I don't know my (deceased) father's birthday and Father's Day has always been the next best thing. But I think about him enough. I don't need a special day to do that.

This week in the hospital :

"I just want to get my life back," my 81-year old patient said.

Square-jawed, slightly wavey white hair, good muscle mass for his age, and a box-shaped chest. He looked like an aged Alex Ross version of Superman.

"The bladder infection will get better with the antibiotics. As to WHY you keep getting infections, we have to look to see if you're getting everything out of your bladder when you urinate," I told him.

While it's common for a healthy female to get urinary tract infections, it is quite rare for a healthy male. That longer urethra makes all the difference.

I think it's cute that women of any age tend to say "pee" while men usually say "piss" or "urinate." Women also joke about "peeing their pants" a lot more than any man ever would. I tend to use whichever word the gender I'm talking to typically uses.

"I'm hoping to get out by the weekend doc," he said straining his steel blue eyes.

"Oh right, it's your birthday, isn't it?" I said, forgetting The Other Day … again.

"That and Father's Day the day after. Y' know, I told them I didn't want a party, not at my age. But I've got four daughters …," he smiled and shook his head just thinking of them,

"And daughters are something special."

 

My dad always wanted to have daughters after having only sons. He made friends with a married mother (and bartender, I think) of two little girls at a bar he frequented. We would find them running around his Detroit apartment often while we were visiting for the weekend. He would make all four of us breakfast and then read the paper, and I couldn't help but feel like they were stealing away our dad with their little girl magic. The two girls were about ten or so, our age then too.

(Of course, even as little kids, we couldn't be too mad at them. They liked playing house with us. Which meant lying in the same bed with all of our clothes on and talking about "bills and groceries, dear.")

 

"You know what the loneliest time in my life was?" he continued.

Older patients talk a lot more than younger ones. Younger people tend to keep things to themselves and act as if you are wasting their time. Older people know that you can give them what they most want - more time.

"No, what?"

"When I was sent out to sea after my little girl was born. I missed the first two years of her life. God! I want those years back, " even his well combed hair shook when he said it.

He told me how during shore leave, how his fellow sailors would visit the local "pleasure houses" of whatever exotic locale they were in then. But he'd prefer to walk the streets by himself thinking about his little girl and wife back home.

"Fifty nine years we've been married, you know" he told me.

"Wow, that's a long time," I said thinking about my two years with Amy. That's more time than I've known my parents or have even been alive. It's no wonder that old husbands frequently die off within a year of losing their wives.

"And I don't regret a thing … Just, these past few months, have taken all my strength, my life from me."

As robust as he looked, he still had a damaged heart with multiple stents placed in previously clogged arteries. Then the pneumonia and multiple other complications. He was still lucky in a lot of ways, though. He still had hope and motivation and family.

"I am pretty sure you'll be ready by tomorrow night," I said. Famous last words usually, but not in this case.

"I'm an active guy. I would mow BOTH of my neighbors' lawns. They're in worse shape than I am, you know. But now ... I just want to get back to where I was again a few months ago."

And here I am secretly glad that I don't have a lawn yet, so I won't have to mow it.

 

He reminded me of my dad in a way, not in appearance but by the few things I remember our dad saying to my brother and me (often when he was drunk). How he loved us and missed us so when we weren't around.

That's why I was annoyed at the little girls being at his place while we were gone; they could make him forget about my brother and me. More so than any "grown-up" woman.

My dad loved the company of women, of every age and every color. Sure he'd complain about them, but he also couldn't resist them, and it would seem to be mutual. He'd often ask us whether or not we liked his latest female friend. An uncomfortable shrug and a slight head movement, and the woman would be gone by our next visit. Not so with our dad's new "little daughters" ... who would drink OUR pop and draw in OUR comic books, but anyway ....

 

"Well, you've got great attitude and motivation. I think you are well on your way. We'll shoot for this weekend," I told the 81-year old patient and shook his hand. A firm and thankful grip.

 

My mom would tell me how when dad got mad at her (before the divorce), he would always scoop me up under his arm (when I was 2 years old) and say, "Goddammit! I'm going to my mother's house!" And off we'd go for the next couple of hours until he cooled off. Grandma lived on the next street.

He never took my younger brother Mark (then 1 year old), not because he didn't love him (quite the contrary), but because he was only ONE year old (plus he needed one arm to drive the car). And my dad knew my mom would take precious care of him during the hours he was gone.

My mom and I both laugh at the image of my angry dad carrying me away with him under his arm like a special package. I like that. I never remembered him doing that but I still miss it.

 

I already knew how much this father's grown children must have missed him. Even if it was only a fraction of how much I miss mine.

I was just glad I could give someone their dad back.

EPILOGUE: He was able to go home in time to see his wife and daughters. He's probably surrounded by his angels as I write this. Maybe my own dad could be so lucky.

And I'd like to meet those sisters who had the fortune of sharing our dad with us briefly. I do wonder what became of them. What stories they could remember. And who they're playing house with now.

 

DYNASTY FOR THREE, PLEASE

Congratulations to Paul for beating me in the baby-making race!
Everyone's having babies lately it seems. Maybe there WAS a Millennium Bug after all.

 

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