My Dad Part 2

Aaaaand exhale.

After a few days in intensive care, my dad is OK! Well, he has Legionnaire's disease, which has killed several people in New York this week. But he's out of the woods, no longer under sedation (or, as I randomly decided to tell someone "under seduction." It was a long week.) He's confused about where Friday through Wednesday went and is surprised every time we tell him about someone asking about how he's doing. Dad's not one for a fuss being made.

He no longer has a feeding tube, and is now delighting in hospital pork chops and canned peaches--"delicious!" (If I were my mom I'd be seriously calling into question years of compliments about her cooking.)

Within hours of being taken off his respirator, he was cracking jokes. One of his nurses was named Pam, and after she left the room he was calling out "Pam! Pam!" like Kramer when he liked Jerry's girlfriend and said her name was like a bell. Best sound ever.

We watched the Yankees game the other night while he was still hooked up to his heart monitor and every time a Yankee stuck out or bobbled the ball-or whenever the camera cut to A-Rod, even in the dugout-his heart rate would creep up.

So thanks to cutting-edge science or prayers (take your pick)he's on the mend. I'm actually going with mystery door C. My friend used her birthday wish for him to get better. You can pray all year, but you only get one birthday wish. I'm forming a new religion around the church of the birthday wish. Our idol is the candle, communion is cake and milk. Follow me to salvation. Or diabetes.