I Called Dad Today

*This is how I think of my Dad, the strongest and most handsome man.*

It's New Year's Eve 2005. I called my dad today. I worry about him and I worry that I am so far away from him. We almost lost him a few years ago when he developed bladder cancer, another evil thing that the cigarette companies don't want you to know about. Dad was understandably nervous about his impending surgery as were all of us. The doctor and all the literature said it was a routine procedure, just 7-10 days in the hospital. As it turned out, it was much worse for him. A mistake by the original doctor led to a serious infection, a nine month stay in the hospital and 13 surgeries. We all took turns hovering around his bed, praying and talking to him when he was lucid. The one assurance that we had was that we knew he would be alright, no matter the outcome. Even though we prayed for God's will, neither Dad or the rest of us were ready to part. He came home after those 13 months, but he was not the same person he was when he went into the hospital.
I worry that we (I) might be losing him sooner than we want to. Who wants to lose a parent, especially the last one? Dad has long had problems with his kidneys. One just hasn't worked right for years. Last week he went to the doctor for tests. The lab results were not promising. They showed that his kidneys are both in trouble and he is now borderline for needing dialysis. He told me today that he is going to see a specialist next week.
I worry about Dad's failing body, the daily pain he endures, that he is beginning to forget things and get confused, Mom isn't there to help him and neither am I. I worry because tonight when I talked to him, the rest of the family was down in the rec-room playing cards and he wasn't. He always used like playing cards but tonight he said he wasn't interested anymore. He used to be an avid fisherman and golfer too. He doesn't do that anymore either. The only enjoyment he seems to have left is watching the birds outside the livingroom window.
I worry because the last thing he whispered to Mom as they took her lifeless body from the house was, "I'll see you soon."