Bypass

[vaneramos]

How strange it was to see Dad, such a vital, energetic human being, lying absolutely inert and helpless, his skin puffy and pinkish-grey, stained with flecks of blood and iodine. I don't think Uncle George could stand it; he stayed just long enough to see and hear Dad was fine, then slipped back to the waiting room while I stood vigil for a few moments. Dad's mouth was hanging open slightly, the same as when he falls asleep while watching a movie.

Because of the location of the blockages, the surgeon could not use newer, less-invasive procedures but had to break the sternum. The doctor said Dad came through the operation fine, that everything was as good as could be. He was still unconscious when I left the hospital earlier this evening, but was starting to wake up when I called a few minutes ago. I'll stay in London to see he gets transferred out of ICU, hopefully tomorrow afternoon, then I have to go back to work for a couple days.

I have known George all my life, but never spent an hour alone with him that I can recall. Today we spent five hours waiting together. He is a restless, macho, outgoing sportsman who can't stand silence, and I am precisely the opposite. Sailing is his lifelong passion, and he told me tales of yacht races to distract me all afternoon. He is only 70 but all his old sailing buddies have died. George is my mother's sister's husband, and I'm grateful for all he has done for Dad, especially becoming a good friend since Mom died.