He received a pace maker. So much agony went into this decision. Not so much from him, because at this point everyone just wants him better. But the answers didn't come softly. As a matter of fact, this topic was brought up several times throughout the years, and he flat out refused to be put under-
Understandably so, everyone obliged.
His heart stopped last week. They pushed on his delicate chest for 10 minutes.
Let that sink in for a second. Ten. Minutes.
One more time, Ten. At eighty seven.
So after much talk, much discussion. They decided to do it.
As they prepped him for the surgery all he wanted was a malt. He was so darn thirsty.
He fidgeted, he smiled. He would fall into a daze, and then pull it together with his normal banter. That funny witty side. That side of him that makes us all laugh. He's got some one liners that will break down a frown on anyone, that's for sure.
His smile shows through his dark brown eyes. Something I've always admired about him. His smile.
He is here. He is gonna pull through and get out of that darn helpful, loving, but ever too loud and busy hospital.
So this is good news for our family.
Strength. Faith. And determination.
I will tell you that once they pull the tubes out of every single orifice on his body, he might be able to pull the rest together. My word, the beeping alone would drive a drug induced stoned person nutty. Or as he called Billy, a dingaling.
Laughter, awww, it's a good thing.
And right now, we need to laugh with him.
Laugh, smile and hand him a malt.
Get better Gaylord-
The world is at your hard working, fidgety finger tips!
So there you have it kids. The calm before the storm. The storm of getting him home, and listening to him boss us around to do this, and do that.
But first.....
Get this man a malt.
Then call your parents if they are still alive.
If they aren't. Well call the next family member in line.
Big love, and high five to pace makers-
xo
Leese
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