Thank You

I'm extremely grateful for all of your thoughts, prayers, emails and comments. Dad came through the surgery with flying colors, and when I saw him last night he was raising hell in recovery, slapping nurses on the ass and demanding three cigarettes so he could be wheeled outside to smoke them simultaneously. He was also completely looped on post-op morphine, which is always entertaining to watch.

He's an awful patient. He decided that he hated his johnny ["Fuck these assless pajamas, I'm not some kind of goddamned homo that needs quick access!"], so he whipped it off and decided to just be shirtless, much to his young nurse's horror ["Don't worry honey, I'm not gonna flash you. I still have the pants on for chrissake."].

Nursie insisted that he have something on, so he grabbed his t-shirt and started putting it on right over his IV. She was smug, and held the johnny out, expecting him to give up.

Nurse: "Now how do you expect to get that on with a needle in your arm?"
Dad: [annoyed] "Hand me the goddamned bag. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, sweetie."

He proceeded to thread the IV line, bag and all, through his armhole.

Dad: "Now you don't have to look at my man boobs. Happy?"
Nurse: [shakes head, walks away]
Dad: [yelling after her] "SEND THAT NURSE IN WHO SMOKES! SHE PROMISED TO TAKE ME OUTSIDE ON HER NEXT BREAK. I'M TAKING THREE AT ONCE, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"

Imagine all of this happening with my Dad having a hoarse, raspy Marlon Brando-esque whisper (from the breathing tube, while he was in surgery), and it's pretty entertaining.

Anyway, he's home today, up and about, not following a single doctor's order to rest and stay off his feet. Clearly, being foul-mouthed and stubborn runs in the K family.