There's no good way to put this: My father is not well.
He's been "not well" for quite some time, but he's sliding towards the really bad end of the spectrum of ways one can be "not well." He's supposed to be having surgery this morning, but that's been the case twice this month so far and they've not been able to get it done. There is some legitimate concern that his heart is no longer able to sustain sufficient blood pressure when he's under general anesthesia.
Today's surgery is to remove a benign growth on his thyroid. The growth is beginning to negatively impact his ability to breath. It's not at a critical stage by any means, but the doctors believe that "sooner rather than later" is the best approach, as it seems unlikely he will be more able to have surgery in two year than he is now.
This procedure is also a precursor to another one, tentatively schedule for a week from now, to clear out fluid in his lungs. That one is meant to precede an attempt to rescue his dialysis graft which has closed up and has not responded to attempts to de-clot it.
There's a cautionary tale in this: Miracles come with prices. Twenty years ago, he was struck by cancer. Chemotherapy and raditation treatments completely destroyed the cancer and he has been free of that particular ailment for a long, long time now. However, the chemo is likely the cause of his renal failure. Dialysis is a miracle that's been with us a long time, but it is nonetheless a miracle. However, the blood thinners required to keep his tubes open cause fluid to build up in his lungs. We're not wholly sure what caused his heart to struggle so, but his cardiologist hasn't ruled out that an early treatment for something unrelated to his heart may have been the culprit.
And so it goes...
For the past week, I've been sketching ou what I suppose is going to be a eulogy when finished. I don't know the propriety of preparing this sort of thing prior to the actual event, but I expect things will move quickly when they happen, and there are things I want to say. Fortunately, my father and I talk almost every day so there are few things left unsaid to him, but there are many, many things I want to say about him becauase...I honestly don't know why, but I know I want to say them.
So, we're holding our breath. Perhaps things will go swimmingly this morning and the chain of procedures will be performed without incident. That would be spectacular. I live in hope.