My journalistic duties took a back seat today to my filial responsibilities. My 88 year old dad got his leaky aorta coated with foam yesterday at OSU and he was still recovering from the procedure this afternoon. Mom had spent the night but she'd gone home and it seemed like a good idea to spend my unscheduled afternoon with him. He wasn't very happy. They had given him pain medication that made him nauseous and brought up anything that went down. His biggest complaint was feeling so weak and helpless. He didn't have much fight in him and said he didn't think he would ever leave the hospital. We watched some basketball while he dozed in and out. I knew he didn't even want to talk so, like his publicist, I answered all the questions he was asked from the constant stream of hospital personnel. I got him to take the pills they kept bringing in and tried unsuccessfully to make him laugh. He's going to be okay I think in the short term but we all know his race is almost run. Dad's lucky. He has a devoted wife, five kids who all live in town, a great daughter-in-law who is a nurse and many other family and friends. There have always been and there will always be someone with him. No matter what brings you to the end, that's all you need.
I know it's late but...
Thursday, tonight, soon, Moon High and Vug & the Stallions are at Circus and Jim Maneri is at Dick's.
Friday, Death by Banjo at Byrne's, The Muzzleloaders re-emerge at Ravari, Old Hundred is at Rumba and This Is My Suitcase and Super Desserts are at The Summit.
Saturday, I must see the Peloton showcase with Andrew Graham & the Swarming Branch and Lydia Loveless at Rumba.
Sunday, Paul Brown is at Dick's and Bush League All-Stars are at Rumba early. A Sunday happy hour, eh?
This is the end, my only friend, the end. mark
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