I went to see my father today. The last time I saw him, he had only been home from hospital a few hours after a breathing treatment in the wee hours of the morning and a few hours of observation, put him right enough to go home. He stepped feebly out on to the front porch, and with shaking legs sat in the chair there. The chair that has sat there for the last 25 years. The chair that he has sat in for the last 25 years, as I sat on the steps, and we would talk about nothing in particular. I asked, as he settled in and tried to catch his breath, how he was doing?
He said, "Well I have CPOD, that doesn't get any better."
Still not willing to fully admit to myself that my father may not make it to his 81st birth day the 17th of next month, and most surely wont make the next, I mumbled, "well besides that."
"Hu" my father said.
I spoke up a little, and said, "I mean, other than that."
He chuckled, and said, “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”
I hope I keep my sense of humor through it all.