"What Operation?" or What Happens When You Forget To Call

Mom went into the hospital this morning for an operation that could've been relatively simple or - if there were complications - quite serious. The problem was that the doctor couldn't predict it; he'd know only after he started the procedure. The good son that I am, I forgot to call her yesterday to wish her good luck. I guess I had it in mind that, since today was the operation, today was the day to call. Duh.

When I called Dad this morning, he said that the operation started later than expected and Mom was still in the O.R. He'd call later - in an hour if everything went well - and tell me how she was. Two and half hours after that, I was out on my walk and still hadn't heard anything.

Which is, of course, when the worrying began. As I walked, I started having fantasies about the operation. Turned out that the procedure was more serious, and they had to cut her open. It was only then that they realized she was a bleeder. Suddenly, the operation got deadly serious and was beyond the expertise of the Cape Cod doctors. Soon I'd get the call that she was dead. Even knowing this was all made up, tears filled my eyes.

I shook that off and dismissed it as needless worry. Of course she was alright. In fact, there were no complications, she was fine, and Dad just forgot to call. That had to be it. Wouldn't you know it, my mobile phone rang.

It was my younger sister. Judging by her tone of voice (which I was consciously listening to), I could tell that everything was fine. Turned out my latter prediction was true. My sister told me she had been worrying (which made me think: is worrying a Nature-vs-Nurture thing? Did we learn this from our folks, or were we born this way?) and decided to be proactive and call Dad. He was, in fact, just hanging out in the hospital, drinking coffee with my Aunt, and neglecting to call his children. His defense, "I guess I'm just not good at these things." Thanks.

My Dad is a wonderful person, definitely self-less, but almost certainly self-centered. As we like to joke, "It's all about me."

But that's probably a blog for another day...