My dad’s going in for a heart catheterization tomorrow. It’s really no big deal, people do this all the time. My dad is having some symptoms that needed checking out, and he isn’t in mortal danger (we’re assured by the doctor), but my mom’s a nervous wreck and subsequently, or simply because she’s showing him it’s okay to be, he’s showing signs of worry.
I’ll be driving them over tomorrow- actually going home for dinner and to sleep in my old room so we can get an early start. I wanted to be there for them, because they’ve been so kind and generous to me through this particularly weird period in my life.
Blessed, yes. But still weird.
I never thought that at 44 years old I would have virtually no income, relying on my parents more than I like, be taking a fistful of pills every day, and be as happy as I am. I never thought I, a very careful planner, could ever be happy without all the components I once thought were very necessary for success. And yet, I feel successful.
I have amazing people who love and care for me in ways that it would be difficult to imagine just a few years ago. I’ve reconnected with people I didn’t realize I missed. I’m doing things that don’t necessarily bring in a load of money, but they bring in loads of joy and satisfaction. I’ve had the time to spend in getting to know myself better, to write, to read, to play. Very blessed indeed.
My dad and I talked about some of this on Sunday. I wanted to make sure he knew how grateful I was to them both for all their love and help, and that I would be going with them to the hospital. He said, “Oh, shit. If it was me needing help you’d do the same for me, and you do. You do it for other people all the time, and your mom and I are proud of that because that’s they way we raised you.”
That they did. With a lot of heart.