The Waiting is the Hardest Part

 

                                                                      Image courtesy Melissa Venable photostream.

Got a call yesterday evening from my sister-in-law; father-in-law had been taken to the hospital, and no one was exactly sure what the problem was.  Later in the evening, another call said maybe it was a mild heart attack, but the doctors weren’t even sure about that.  He was going to be kept in the hospital for a day or two for observation and testing.  Today, with things going a little bit downhill, they finally discovered the problem:  brain aneurysm.  He is currently being moved to a different hospital for an emergency surgery.

While my husband has never had what I would characterize as an extremely close relationship with his family, he does have—like a lot of sons—strong feelings for his dad.  That makes it difficult, at times like these, to be many states away.

My father-in-law—Pop, as he’s been known around our house since our son was born—is a relatively healthy man, but he is also an elderly man; he celebrated his 99th birthday just a couple of months ago.  Bleeding in the brain is not something to be taken lightly in any patient, but certainly not in someone who is so close to the honor of being labeled a centenarian. 

So, we sit here, 1500 miles away, wishing there was something we could do, but knowing there is not. 

And we wait.