Surgery

My mom had to get hip surgery.

Apparently she has genetically bad hips. Her and her 3 sisters are all dealing with this fact. One of them is currently trying alternative methods to try and fix it: things like stem cells, and hyperbaric chambers and whatnot.

My mom is 54 years old and had to get hip surgery.

My dad was texting me updates while I was at work: “The surgery went fine”, “We’re in the recovery room”, “Her blood pressure is normal”. Just a routine surgery that went according to plan, I thought. I told my dad that I would call him after work.

It had only been 2 hours. I called my dad and he answered with a ‘hello’ like he normally would. I didn’t sense any distress in his voice, so I said “What up?” in a cheery tone.

“Well, not good.”

He starts to break down as he explains that she was taken into an emergency surgery because her blood pressure was dropping. That shockwave of disbelief hit me, the kind you only feel while receiving bad news. It’s like getting punched in the nerves in the back of your head, and shoots through the rest of your body.

I should say that my mom is okay, but she very nearly died. Her femoral artery was nicked during the first surgery and she was bleeding internally.

When we didn’t know if she was going to be okay, this thing happened to me. The same thing happened when my wife was giving birth and she was taken into an emergency c-section. My brain would not allow me to imagine what life would be like if they were gone. I literally could not even will myself to think about it. If that option did not, and could not exist, then nothing bad was going to happen. They weren’t even gone and I was already going through the first stage of grief.

This whole thing got me thinking about the last conversation we had. I tried to call her the day before the surgery but she didn’t answer, and I didn’t try to call her again. Life distracted me with something else, and I didn’t try too hard to call her again. I figured she’d be fine.

Call your parents if you still can.