I won’t be going to work tomorrow (or today, depending on when you read this), but not for an uplifting reason. During the next 24 hours, I will be praying my heart out. No, it’s not this new thing I’m trying, although praying has been something I’ve been doing every day since Monday. This is a little different because it involves the live of my father.
If you’ve read my previous post, Father., which I wrote for Father’s Day, you are probably with me at this point. I’ll try to recap anyway.
In 1997, my father’s aorta burst (importantly large vein that drapes over and is connected to the heart). He died for a few minutes, but miraculously, was brought back to life. A few weeks later, he made another trip to the hospital because he needed a heart valve replacement. Ten years later, my parents and I flew to Texas for the lower part of his aorta to be repaired (this part of it travels down your back). Two years after, he had two hernias in his stomach repaired, then a year or two later, had more repaired.
Back in Texas, my father was told that there was a small area which would need to be repaired eventually on the lower part. Which brings me to September 14, 2012.
He and my mother took the train to the University of Pennsylvania this afternoon. My father actually at the hospital right now, but won’t know what time the surgery actually is until midnight tonight. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Of course I know that anything can happen. I’ll be heading there in a few hours to meet my mom. At this point, it’s all out of our hands, and all we can do is wait.



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