What my father is wearing here is a shampoo cap -- a hospital device, lined with chemicals, that gets cooked for 30 seconds in a microwave and then gives a patient a hair wash and dry. The bear to his left is a gift from his granddaughter Lucy, and the red plaid shirt draped over the chair is one of Mr. Mernit's longtime favorites (the photo was taken by brother John's cell phone, at my father's own request).
You might think that a man who has endured the immense cruelty of what's amounted to a 12-day hospital wait for a procedure that's supposed to save his life (punctuated by other procedures less major but also stressful) might be a little... testy. But Dad spends a good deal of his time cracking up the staff. Most of the nurses are in love with him ("You're my favorite," I heard one tell him, "Whenever I have the time, I come over here so I can hang out with you"), as his good humor is palpably infectious. He's actually an embodiment of the concept of grace.
Dad's surgery, after many postponements, is finally slated for Tuesday. My mom is gamely learning to walk again, over in her rehab room. We watched the Oscars at her place, and then his. We are all of us, wife, brother, and the Formerly More Mobile Merry Mernits, hanging in there. Love continues to be the answer, despite so many painful questions, and you guys -- readers of this blog -- have given us some that is deeply appreciated. Thank you for all the wonderful comments on the last post, which I read to my father (and he later read to Mom). It made them happy.
I'll update you Tuesday night (we think good thoughts). And then next weekend I fervently hope to return to the usual Living RomCom bloggery. Thanks again for being with us.
WEDNESDAY UPDATE: Dad did NOT have his procedure yesterday. We have now officially begun a production of The Merry Mernits Meet Kafka (or maybe it's Beckett?). It was discovered that his defib implant site was swollen -- Dad was bleeding. This required another small surgery to fix up... which of course requires a few days recovery... which puts the big triple-A operation to be done on... We have no freakin' idea. With any luck, round the weekend, but it could even drag into next week. When I'm done screaming I'll get back to you again...
SATURDAY UPDATE: Dad's aneurysm procedure is now scheduled for Tuesday. He's patiently enduring, as are we all, with fingers crossed on every front.