Tougher than old boot leather

My phone rang at 6:30 this morning and I didn't recognize the number so I let it go to voicemail. Rarely do people leave me messages so I was surprised when the message alert beeped. You know that feeling of dread? Yep I had it as I dialed voicemail and listened to my mom's voice tell me that she'd driven Poppy to the ER in Amarillo at 2 am and they were about to take him to surgery. She sounded tired and scared and unusually lost. My mom is a force of Nature, hearing her like that told me this was serious. I caught the words "sepsis" and "bowel", and my heart sank. Poppy just turned 80, he's had his share of battles including prostate cancer and two fake knees, but he was much younger. This is serious at any age, but 80?

I had to take the Cute Chicks to their doctor's appointment at 9:45, take them home (spouse was home to watch them) and make it back to Amarillo and the hospital. Walked into ICU waiting room at 11:45 and found mom, sitting alone, looking small and lost. Nothing scares you like seeing your parents in a moment of weakness. I hugged her, realized she was sitting there in her pjs and a sweatshirt and tennis shoes without socks, and got more scared. Mom never leaves the house undressed and, in her words, unkempt. They must have flown out the door.

We sat there for just a few minutes, waiting for the nurse to take us to Poppy's room, and she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse, unfolded it and handed it to me.

"The doctor asked if I wanted to see what they removed, I was afraid he had it in a glass jar or something." Thank God, she still has her twisted sense of humor. But, oh dear God in Heaven.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm seeing there, I know it's part of his intestines and I know about necrosis, I know that's very very serious, but I don't know what part. Now I'm terrified. About this time, the nurse comes to get us, "Mary? Leslie? Bill is waiting for you, he's an incredible man. He said he just turned 80 and you've been married for 53 years? That's amazing!" 

OMG! He's that lucid? We walked into his ICU room to find him sitting up in bed, oxygen in his nose, nasogastric tube draining bile and blood from his stomach, monitors beeping and blinking, and he grinned at us. He's got a 5'2 big-busted redheaded nurse who he's actively harassing. He's figuring out how he can manipulate the monitors on his body to make the display go nuts. Pulse, blood pressure, blood oxygen, respirations. 72, 115/70, 97, 25. I'm looking around the room and see he's got

the picture taped up on his bulletin board next to the names of his nurses. Damn that's ugly.

We were talking and joking, making him laugh, when the ICU doctor on duty came in to check him over, get a history from him, I think testing his lucidity. After he asks for medical history, he asked, "So what did you have done this morning?" To which Poppy replied, "That" and pointed to the picture. I've never seen a Pakistani doctor turn so white. Don't think he was a surgeon. "When did you start feeling ill?" Poppy, in his usual laconic manner, "Well, I've had a bit of indigestion for a few days and I felt a little nauseous yesterday when I was pulling weeds." The man is tough as nails.

So here's the prognosis, one night in ICU at least. If he keeps doing well, he'll be moved to regular room for a few days. We think he'll be home by Friday, and back in his garden in a couple of weeks.

I'm going to be offline for a few days, and we'd appreciate prayers and happy thoughts.