- This topic has 4 replies, 3 voices, and was last updated 9 months, 1 week ago by
.
-
Posts
-
As I am retired and felt basically lazy this morning I rose from bed a bit after 8 AM, well a bit more than a bit, somewhere around 8:45, okay it was 9:00! LOL
So, after finally coaching myself to my feet, trundling into the bathroom for my morning ritual of, well you know; then made it to the kitchen where I discovered I failed to prepare my coffee maker for the ritualistic tap and go in which I take Gracie outside to conduct her business and when I return the coffee is almost ready.
Which gave me enough time to prepare her breakfast $75 dog food combined with some of that Farmers Dog kind of stuff, I mean she eats better than I do, but I figure it’s okay because she has to put up with me, and how my dearly departed wife did it 43 years I will never know.
Now, bagel and cream cheese at the ready with a nice hot cup of Joe, I am ready to officially begin my day, sans television, radio, and nothing but pure silence…then it happens.
The phone rings if it had not been the Ironman ringtone telling me that my eldest son was calling I could have possibly tossed the damned thing, but it was my namesake and one of the pride of my life calling, it went something like this…” hello? Hey Dad, it’s me, I’ve got a problem” I thought here come’s the touch, you know how your children preface a need for ‘your’ money?
“Yeah, I’m at the hospital, and they just found a spot on the top of my kidney (not specified) and I was wondering do I tell (his wife), or do I keep it from her?
“Oh no, be upfront, tell her everything, she has a right to know”! Okay Dad, thanks, love ya. Problem averted, my son will be forthcoming with the details and they will work through everything together.
Then about an hour ago, somewhere in the misty fog-drenched musing of photography, Ironman interrupts me again… this time laughing “Hey Dad, guess what the f++k I did this time?” I was afraid to ask, but being a man’s man I said “Tell me all about it”, “I was using a machine, and it caught my glove dragging my hand in, and it chopped off the tops of both my middle and index fingers”!
Okay, now I am usually a stoic individual, but not much gets to me, having served 20 years as a Combat Medic in real combat, I have witnessed and handled everything from headaches to giving kisses on foreheads, thank God there were only five of those. But here I am shaking because my little boy who is actually 49 years old and every bit a man himself is telling me about an industrial accident re-engineering his body structure!
All I could say was “What the f++k?” he laughed (painkillers, probably, and, a digital block) as he began to deliberate in great detail how he was called by his boss that they had found his errant appendages, put them in ice and were speeding their way to the hospital.
I managed to serve 20 years without a single injury except for a knife fight scar due to an altercation outside of a seedy joint in South America, but except for that and the replaced knees and hips (too much Army fun) no broken bones, no lost appendages, the only broken bone I ever suffered was due to a fall while putting up new window shades (during retirement) and attempted to twist my body so as not to offend, brush or even bother my very expensive stereo. Resulting in a broken forearm, you have to have your priorities. 🙂
He was in the Marines, I did the Army, my younger son did the Army for 15 years and served three combat tours, and my other son Big “T” was also in the Marines and had no broken bones.
I have come to the conclusion that military life though somewhat dangerous is nowhere as deadly as living in the “World”. LOL
So I ask you, how is your Tuesday going, come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed at all. 😉
Here’s hoping all of you fine people have a wonderful “safe” week.Agree with Michael brilliant read. Hope your boys are ok and you too for that matter.
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.