My dad had his quadruple bypass on the 20th, and is currently in the hospital recuperating. The doctor said he did well, and was happy with what he saw. Last night my dad was in a lot of pain from all the chest tubes that kept his lungs inflated during surgery (as well as some other tubes), but they were removed today and he feels better. I’m hoping he gets to come home for Christmas. But even if he comes home the day after, that’s fine – as long as he’s feeling better. I mean, you could always just pretend it’s the 25th on the 26th.
We’ve had a few holidays were someone wasn’t home for Christmas. Back when I was a tween, I became ill with pneumonia, and wasn’t breathing so well one morning. I was rushed to the ER, intubated, and eventually trached. I stayed there for two weeks, then was transferred to Children’s Hospital up in Mountainside, NJ. The doctors and nurses there slowly weened me off the ventilator for the daytime hours and trained my parents how to take care of my trach and vent. Even though I was essentially better, it took a while for me to get back home – I was in that hospital for about a month, over Christmas. Even though I wished I was home, it wasn’t so bad; I was able to spend it with my family, AND I got double the gifts, thanks to hospital donations.
In 2002 or 2003 (that whole time was kind of a blur!), my brother joined the US Marines. Of course, his boot camp training was during Christmas, and OF COURSE we missed his obligatory Christmas Eve phone call (which we were never notified about) because we were out at that time. My mom kept our decorations up until he came home in February, lights outside and all. This is how we roll.
So, basically, the situation with my dad is par for course.