A Scare and a Frightening Realization

Bernie and I decided to go over to Mom and Dad's house this afternoon. Aunt Pat was visiting, and Mom was planning on having the whole family over for dinner, but we decided to go early since we were out already.

After about an hour, Mom and Bernie decided to go grocery shopping. That left Dad, me, and Aunt Pat watching TV. Dad had taken a misstep on the bottom stair this morning and twisted his ankle, so he had been taking it easy on the sofa. He decided to get up, and his knee decided not to hold him up and he took a fall, whacking his forehead on the sharp edge of the chest-of-drawers.

Blood was everywhere. I ran and got him a wad of damp paper towels, then found an icepack and an old cloth to put pressure on the injuries. To Dad's credit, he didn't pass out. He had three deep cuts - two on his forehead and one on the bridge of his nose. I called mom's cell phone and told her to come home quick.

When she got home, it was decided that we were going to the Emergency Room and Bernie and Aunt Pat would stay home. Dinner was canceled.

After about 6 hours in the ER, Dad got his wounds dressed. No stitches. He had a gouge-type wound that had no edges to pull together, and two flap-type lacerations with edges that wouldn't hold a stitch or dermabond, so they used steri-stips to tape the two lacerations shut and put ointment and a bandage on the gouge. No concussion or other trauma to the head. When they heard of Dad's history and his neck surgery in 2005, they took a CAT-scan of his head to make sure there wasn't any damage.

We got him back home around 8:30.

My Dad has a history of accidents, and since his surgery, he's been predictably getting a bit weaker and clumsier, and has had a number of falls. I find myself getting irrationally angry whenever this happens ("How can you not be more careful, knowing your condition?" etc., etc.). Feeling that way isn't fair, but I guess this is my way of trying to deny that my parents are getting older and not being able to face the fact that they won't be taking care of me forever, and instead they will need me to take care of them in the future.

That's a hard truth to face, because my Dad has always been there to catch me if I mess up. Even if I don't always need that backstop (and there have been times when I've even resented it), I've gotten used to him being there for me. One day, hopefully a long time away, I'll have to go on without him, but that is too frightening to think about. I'm not looking forward to outliving my parents. I have been lucky - my parents love me and my sister, love my wife, love each other, and have been stable, healthy, and supportive for my whole life. When they are gone, I really don't know how I'll cope.

Anyway, Bernie ended up unloading the groceries by herself, and kept Aunt Pat company all afternoon and half the evening - all while worried to death for my Dad. At least I chose the perfect woman to spend the rest of my life with. Both me and my parents agree on that.