A week of dealing with Cardiac Intensive Care
My father came home from the hospital today, after being in the Cardiac Intensive Care unit for a week. It was a scary time for all of us, and I had a lot of difficulty coping with the thought that my father, who is only 56 years old, could die.
What a very sobering thought that is, and one I had never spent much (any?) time on, but seeing the crash cart jerked into a room as you are pushed out of that room is a fairly terrifying thing to witness. I’m very grateful that my Papa is home, safe and sound, back where he belongs.
He has a long way to go before he’s in “tip top health” again, and he will have to make a lot of changes to his diet and exercise routines. He’s already grumbling about it, as men who are set in their ways tend to do, but his wife assures me that she will make sure he sticks to his doctor’s plan and do her best to keep him from needing another visit to the Cardiac Intensive Care unit.