One always thinks of our parents as being larger than life, even as we grow to adulthood. This year has been a telling one for the man who gave me life and who taught me how to live life to the fullest. He's always been healthy as a horse, he's survived a bout of bladder cancer a few years ago with seemingly no repurcussions, but this year has been a hard one for him and for me. This spring he had a mild heart attack and found out he had arterial blockages, and had stents put in where possible. It wasn't until fall that he said to me that he finally felt strong and healthy again, better than before his heart attack.
But this past weekend, he had a stroke, possibly brought on by a tumble he took at home last week, but a stroke nonetheless. He doesn't remember short-term anything, including the events leading up to the stroke, nor even a week or more before. He's home, thankfully, and recuperating. Still, I am concerned - maybe, hopefully, needlessly. I hope he'll return to his vital and strong self quickly.
I get to visit him in a few weeks. It's been several months, and that was a quick visit, so I'm anxious to see him and talk with him.
