Wednesday, March 07, 2007

A Drink with My Dad

Late that summer Daddy complained of a cold and Aunt Ruth, who was in charge of the pharmacy at Lutheran Hospital in Omaha, said he should see a doctor. With her connections at the hospital, she got him in to see a physician, even though it was Sunday. The doctor examined him and suggested he go to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.

Since I would have to quit my job soon to go to the Army, it was decided that I should drive Daddy to Minnesota. At that point we were not certain the seriousness of the sickness so it was logical for me to make the drive and leave Mother at home to continue working.

It was a bittersweet time for me. Daddy was obviously concerned about his health but it was also the first time we had really ever had time to be together. I was quite surprised when he suggested we stop at a bar for a drink on the way out of town. My dad was not a heavy drinker and I don’t think I had ever had a drink in front of him since I had just turned 21 my previous birthday. So it was an awkward moment for both of us. I don’t remember what we spoke of but I do remember I saw my dad in a different light than I had ever seen before. Perhaps he knew his fate and was more open because of it. I don’t know. But like many father-son relationships, the understanding between them comes mostly too late.

We got to Rochester and Daddy was quickly diagnosed with cancer of the lung. The doctors said removal of the lung was the only option in an attempt to save his life. I called Mother, of course, but in the end I had to sign the papers agreeing to the operation.

Mother caught the first bus to Rochester and got there just in time to be with Daddy as he died. The doctors said his body could not take the removal of a lung. Cancer treatment is different today but the causes were certainly suspected. His nurse said she had no doubt but what his two-pack-a-day smoking habit greatly contributed to his demise. This was in 1951, 40 years before smoking became a major health issue.

Getting home from Rochester, the funeral and other daily activities are still a blur.

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