Gifts

Every now and then life gets in the way.  I'd planned to see and write about another new movie, to do all the normal trivial things one does when one isn't paying particular attention to how precious and fleeting being alive is. But so much for plans.  My parents, visiting me here in Los Angeles, were planning to have some leftovers for dinner at their hotel the other night, when they made the left turn into their hotel's parking structure and were broadsided by another car that was speeding down Wilshire Boulevard.

Amazing how everything can change in an instant.  That they're both alive is somewhat of a miracle, considering that the force of impact, besides spinning the car round and shattering the windshield, threw my father's glasses to the far right corner floorboards and ripped one of his hearing aids loose, still to be found in the wreckage.  Paramedics had to cut the steering wheel and slide my mother out on the driver's side.  The car was totaled.

My mother, 83 years old and still in the best of health, suffered a fractured pelvis, a broken collarbone and rib.  My 87 year-old father, although suffering the agony of feeling (wrongly) responsible for my mother's injuries, came out relatively unscathed -- whiplash, a pulled muscle, a few cuts and bruises.  And this is where the story turns bizarre, written with the perverse pen that only reality can wield.  My father's CT scan revealed that, entirely unrelated to the accident, he harbored an abdominal aortic aneurysm: a swelling of the aorta in danger of imminent rupture, an event that usually is instantly fatal.

"You're a time bomb," is how one ER trauma doctor put it to my dad.  Which is why as I write this, he's slated for surgery tomorrow, in a high risk procedure (my father has a history of heart disease) that Cedars-Sinai's expert team of doctors nonetheless believe is doable, and God willing, will allow him to emerge from the hospital alive, with perhaps another decade ahead of him.

It's ridiculous to observe that this car accident was a good thing in that it may have saved my father's life, but really, what does one say?  We're all too busy reeling and dealing with the many curveballs any hospital stay inevitably throws at you -- my mother's reaction to the anesthesia, for example, after the surgery that successfully realigned her pelvis.  She became agitated when she emerged, as many elderly patients apparently do, and needed to be sedated.  Which is why my older brother John and I -- he'd flown in from Baltimore the day of her operation -- ended up each holding one of her hands, in lieu of hospital room restraints, to keep her from clawing off her oxygen mask in her delirium.

Considering that Dee-Ann Mernit had never, up until the night of the accident, been a hospital patient in the over-50 years since she gave birth to me, she has come through the whole traumatic experience like a trouper, retaining the same sweet and benign optimism that has helped keep her and my father Dick Mernit such a loving couple for past 61 years of marriage.  In the midst of her drugged fog that night, as we held onto her hands, she spoke a lot of indecipherable babble, but one phrase emerged that she kept repeating like a mantra.  "Love and kisses," she murmured, over and over again, "Love and kisses."

 

We celebrated Valentine's Day together in the hospital, me, my wife Tater, and my brother moving from his room to her room and back, bearing gifts of chocolates and cards and fruity non-alcoholic, faux-champagne beverages.  My father couldn't get over the fact that my mother had already bought and inscribed two Valentine cards for him, days before the accident.  "She gets it done before the bill arrives," he said wryly, wondering over the cards, then joked, referring to his own lack of preparation, "You see what's wrong with this relationship?"

There is nothing wrong with their relationship.  And one of the things so wonderfully right about it is my father's deep, reverent devotion to his wife, which he shows each day in a hundred ways.  I wish you could have seen their reunion, that night she came out of surgery and was finally lucid, how he bent so carefully over her hospital bed, he in his own hospital gown, to tenderly kiss her forehead.  It could renew your belief in love, in the awesome force of the human heart, if that's something you've ever questioned.

Tomorrow, the heart has to triumph again.  I'm not a praying man, but I am a believer.  And it's not that I'll ever take the gifts we've already received for granted.  I simply refuse to believe that a story like this could come to some poorly written ending.

I'll let you know how everything goes.

SATURDAY UPDATE: Dad had a relatively minor operation on Friday -- the insertion of a defibrillator -- which went well.  However, his team of docs are being cautious about the major operation and so even Monday is now iffy as the target date; the procedure could happen as late as next Thursday the 26th.  He's being great about all this, but it's a trial.  Mom on the other hand is beginning her rehab therapy work and determined to heal as fast and best as she can.  It's frustrating/sad for all of us that they can't be together, but we go back and forth, and there's the phone...  Thank you all for your good wishes and check-ins.  I'll keep you in the loop.

Comments

[Chris]

My thoughts (and prayers) are with you and your family.

[E.C. Henry]

Praise the Lord that they found out about your father's abdominal aortic aneurysm. Sounds like he's lived a full life, but a few more years of living good retired life never hurt anyone.

RIGHT after my dad retired from Boeing he was diagnosed with prostate canser. But he went to a place called Lomolinda in Southern California and got cured. Now he golfs like crazy and is VERY happy. My point: post trauma life for retires CAN go back to being quite nice.

Glad to hear your parents love life is so strong. You're a very blessed guy, Billy. Thanks for sharing this post. I'll be praying for you and your family.

- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA

[AC]

All the best.

[Tiago]

All the best.

[Angelica]

What a blessing to have a Great Love as a model for you and your marriage!

Your Father is in my prayers.

Blessings, Angelica

[jamy]

Oh, Billy, I'm so sorry--and so grateful that your mother is healing well and that your father has a chance to share more happy years with her. Thanks for telling this story.

[J]

I love your parents. I don't know them, but I do, and I will give God a talking to tonight on their behalf.

[Mike]

Thank you, Billy, for the update. The gift of your father's reunion with your mother in the hospital is a gift to us all. I'm reminded how much I miss my parents, who passed last year. Oh, yes. I believe. I very much believe. Hope all works out for the best. And deep gratitude for sharing the gift.

[Deb Montoya]

Sending good thoughts your way, Billy.

[Ryan Stauffer]

Hope everything goes even better than you could imagine. Praying for you and yours.

[CarolinefromCanada]

Wow. One hell of a post. Thanks for sharing this very personal story ... it gives me pause to reflect on a lot. Praying for you and your parents' speedy recovery.

[ScribeLA]

Billy -
Thank you for sharing this. I am so sorry to hear about the events of the weekend. I am thinking good thoughts for your mom and dad. What a beautiful love story they share. You and Tater are quite lucky to have such an example for your union. I send peace and blessings your way. And hugs.
-Scribe

[susan mernit]

Billy, thank you for this beautiful post that is so eloquent and loving sbout your parents and family.

Hope everything continues to go well for them with the surgery and their recovery.
Best, Susan

[binnie]

Hoping and praying...

[Tony Conniff]

Bill,
My hope is that your parents' story will continue, for some time to come, to be a romantic comedy, with this just being one of the inevitable temporary setbacks.
Love,
TC

[Donna]

Like the rest of the comments, I was touched by your story, and the second picture with the words that you wrote before that, brought tears to my eyes.

Love is real. A full life with someone who loves you, is the best of life.

Your parents are a treasure, I'll be sending prayers their way.

[Dave]

All my best wishes to your parents and yourselves Storyman. Not much else one can say. Fingers crossed.
cheers
Dave.

[Erika]

I've been wondering about them... didn't want to trouble you n' J. with my inquiries, so am very grateful for your lovely post. I'm not a believer, but I do believe spirits like theirs will prevail. Tough birds. The best kind. You are all in my thoughts and in my heart.
love,
Erika S.

[Bonnie]

Billy, we are so sorry to hear about your parents' accident. I am not familiar with the surgery your father is going to have, but I guess it was meant to be discovered and done there and for you to be nearby. Our most sincere wishes for a speedy recovery for them both. Bonnie & Chico...and if they need anything in NYC - just let us know.

[s. west]

As you know, I have loved your parents for now nearly 26 years. I admire them, their devotion to one another, and their boundless love for their children (and your late, unsinkable grandmother). And while they have always been in my thoughts (and for lack of a better word, prayers)they will be especially more so now. Please extend to them my sincerest and warmest --- xox sue

[Fronnie Lewis aka F. Leegh Lewis]

Billy,

A very moving post. Lovely photo of your parents, too. I am a believer in a higher power. Also, I feel you can never have too many people praying for you.

I will include your wonderful parents and your family in my prayers.

Hang in there,

Fronnie

[simone]

sending love and best wishes for healing and strength!
xo
simone

[Cindy Lieberman]

Wow -- just caught up on this today, Billy. I'm sending love and good wishes to you and your family. Between the accident, the heart surgery, and the 61 year old marriage, what a story!

[Judith Duncan]

Hi Billy,just read your post.Cosmic timing can be so absurd, a traumatic accident saves your father's life.My thoughts are with you and your family and wishing you love and strength.
Cheers,
Judith

[Elisabeth Fies]

Sending you good thoughts...