This side of the grass

My father had scheduled day surgery for a hernia this morning. It was a simple day surgery, but at 75, diabetic and with a history of cardiac issues, nothing is safe or sure. It went well. He had declined my offers to get him to the hospital over the last few weeks, but accepted at the last minute. My sister Teresa took the day off work to take care of our mother, who is not able to be alone due to advancing dementia.
I picked him up at 5:45 AM. It brought back memories of the years when I worked for him when he was a construction superintendent, and early mornings headed for the hunting grounds.
My father has a fear of hospitals and he dragged his feet on the way in, and almost danced out when his surgery was over. He said it was a very mild experience after his bypass surgery some years ago. He was joking and happy (I am not supposed to life anything heavier than 5 kilos – how am I supposed to take a leak?).
When he had his bypass surgery a few years ago, he announced that it was good to be on this side of the grass.

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