The Waiting is the Hardest Part
As I sit here at Maine General, Thayer Unit in Waterville, I can't wait to see dad. My sister, Bonnie and Marie Anne are here and dad made it through surgery well.
Although, even after suffering a collapsed lung, my dad kept his spirits high and kept his nurses laughing, I knew that he understood this was serious. His lung wasn't healing and it would require surgery.
"I'm not nervous," he said. And he wasn't. He knows that, even though he'd quit smoking 13 years ago, his past was catching up. He accepts that and, in fact, said he was waiting for this. Is it a wonder he's my hero?
My dad is honest, not just to himself, but to everyone. To a fault!
Quick story. Yesterday, at the Augusta hospital, he wanted two cheeseburgers but the kitchen said he could only have one at a time. He had two bites left to go in the burger and I told him to call the kitchen and tell them you're ready for another one.
"I haven't finished this one!" he scolded. "I'm not going to lie!"
That's my dad. I want to be like him when I grow up.