The Heart of a Hypochondriac

My father is many things (see June 19 post), including a hypochondriac.  My mother likes to avoid doctors at all costs. (Doctor, Jeff Hathaway, 2003) I think I fall somewhere in between. So quite often I end up getting pissed off at both of them for either overreacting and overdosing or avoidance and denial.

Lately my father had been complaining of tightness of the chest. We all thought he was just having anxiety attacks; y'know,cry wolf and all that. But as he was leaving on a month-long trip back to China and Hong Kong, we thought it would give him peace of mind to have it checked out. After 15min of being hooked up to a treadmill not unlike the 6 Million Dollar Man, I think my Dad finally got the answer he was looking for: Something was wrong and he needed a procedure. But, said the cardiologist, it's not dire and if you take these pills you can still go on your trip and have the procedure when you return.  Yeah.  Not likely.  The trip has come to a screeching halt with my mother frantically calling the travel agent. We're shooting to go in next week and have them go in and check things out; and if needed, while they're in there put a splint stent in his artery. 

With his greatest fear come to fruition, he couldn't stop thinking about it.  "This is a turning point in my life!"  and "I can't believe I ran that 5K.  I could've died!"   Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

My sister and I spent 30minutes the other night berating him for putting one foot in the grave already.  He is already thinking the worst and predicts he may need a bypass.  "Your mom is disappointed we're not going to Hong Kong. I can tell.  But it's not worth my life, is it??"   The melodrama has begun...  and I don't know how to deal. 

"Dad!  You've gone from A to Z already!  Can we just take this one step at a time?  What happened to B and C and D?  You are nowhere near death so stop acting like you are!..  You are not only going to have to change your lifestyle, you're going to need to change your outlook and your attitude on life!"  Was I a bad daughter for not showing more sympathy??

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Fast forward:  he went in for the procedure 18 hours later..  Said my sister, "Wow.  He was going to get on a plane to China   Now he's going into the hospital instead?"  

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Edit: This is The Procedure.

Well, it turns out my father's front artery was 95% blocked. But a stent was put in and after a sleepless night in ICU, he rested at home comfortably. We knew it was a good sign when he heard he would likely be discharged the next day before Noon.
Dad: "Oh. Good. I'll make it home for football"
R: "There's a game tomorrow Dad? It's Saturday."
Dad: "Oh yes... It's the playoffs."
Mom: "What time is the game?"
Dad: "...One.."
E: "Uh-huh! You're not THAT sick!..
R: Did you talk to your bookie yet? What's the spread?"
Dad: "No. Not yet."
E & R(in unison): "Ok. He's a LITTLE sick."

It was difficult to watch my father in such fear. I tried to get him to relax and keep his thoughts happy and positive. But during his wait and prep time, his fists were often clenched, I had to keep unfurling his fingers. And I could see it in his face as they rolled him away into the surgery room. As much as I wanted to face him with a brave face, I could only react with tears of my own.

I wish I could write in a more eloquent manner about how much my father means to my family. Or about the parent/child relationship. Or even about aging? Or how about mortality itself?
But I can't. So I won't.