Hip Daddy

My dad just got himself excused from helping with our move.

He is having hip replacement surgery TOMORROW. He found out today that his hip is toast, courtesy of a slip on the ice a few weeks ago. He cracked his hip when he fell, and it didn't show up on the x-ray at first, but has been getting progressively worse. The ball of the hip has been gradually slipping out of the joint, like a scoop of ice cream slowly falling off the cone, as the doctor described it.

So, there will definitely be no heavy lifting in his immediate future. I am not complaining. Obviously, getting his hip fixed, and him out of pain is priority number one. And he has certainly earned a reprieve from manual labor, even though I am pretty sure he wishes he didn't have to take one.

My dad has always been the one everybody called for help. Need something heavy moved? Call Dad. Need something repaired? Call Dad. Need to borrow a truck? Need to borrow some money? Call Dad. Whatever it was, Dad could usually fix it.

So that doctor darn well better fix my Dad up good as new tomorrow. I'll be there, waiting, and pretending like my presence is helping. I don't know what else to do.