A Rose By Any Other Name.....

Greetings All,
Today Dad had a doctor's appointment. It was a routine checkup to follow-up on his surgery (underarm) and his back's healing progress. I offered to drive several times, but he insists on going on his own. Oh well, we will keep trying.

Dad is so cute, I didn't think I would see him until after his appointment because I had school during his visit and I thought I would be back after he went to bed. What is cute is that just minutes before I got home from school (8pm) Dad called my cell phone. I was literally 1/10 of a mile away. I tried to pick up the phone, but missed the button and hung up on him instead. I thought I would just wait unil I got home 30 seconds later. I heard the chime on my cell phone indicating that he left a message, I thought perhaps he needed me to pick up something at the store on my way home. I didn't listen to the message, but instead hustled into the house to see what it is my father needed from me.

I ran up to Central Command (Dad's room) and he swung around in his huge, too big for his room - but I am not going to tell him - office chair, looked at me over the top of his glasses in that fatherly way and said,
"Did you get my message?"
Me: "Up, no, I thought I would talk to you live, since you just left it."
Dad: "Well, I was very worried".
Me: "Tonight is my late night class - I come home at 8pm."
We both look at each other with a pause that spoke volumes.
Me: "I guess I should have left you a note letting you know approximately when I will be home. (I usually do this, I just was running out and left a note about something else).
Dad: "Yes, if you could do that, I was worried."
Me: "I am sorry Dad, I will do that going forward".
Katherine hangs her head down, slowly turns around and shuffles toward the stairs going up to the "tower" (my room).

He is so cute. I mean caring so much - he probably didn't once say to himself, well she is over 45 (barely), she can take care of herself, she will be home when she is home. He just thought that his favorite daughter (Ha! I can say that here, no one can fight it!) is not where she should be, home.

So, what was I saying, oh yeah, Dad had his doctors appointment today. And a reminder, this appointment was routine. Dad said the doctor gave him a clean bill of health. Back is still healing nicely and underarm had considerably less fluid build up than last week. The doctor said he didn't even need to drain it, he said it would drain on its own and there is nothing to be concerned with. Dad said he was feeling better today when he woke up and he slept a bit better than in the recent past. The doctor also said that he can start exercising a bit and he doesn't need to come in again for a whole month! Now that is good news.

Dad is going to try to get to the indoor pool at the recreation center in Verona/Caldwell.

I have a short, but related story to tell and then I will let you go about your business.

When we were all about highschool age (70's) our family car was a Volkswagon van. A hideous pea-green, highly recognizable, box of a car that we got around in. My Dad seemed to have a propensity for VW's. Not sure why, I think I remember him saying that the German's were great mechanics. My Dad had that car for some time before its demise. In fact, it didn't even die, he sold it to my cousin Bryan.

Now it was time for Dad to by a new car. A car that would be all his. No kids with learner's permits, no holiday gatherings to get to stuffing us all in as if we were clowns in a VW Bug, just him. The last car Dad had to himself was a VW Carmengia. We couldn't fit in that little thing anyway.

Dad did his research and narrowed his choices down to two different makes and models. He drove down Bloomfield Avenue into the Caldwell's where the local car dealerships are lined up. Now, no one knows, except for Dad, exactly how this story goes, but legend has it that when Dad took one look at the young man that would be selling him a car in one of the dealerships, his mind was made up. My father bought the Ford Taurus. I am sure he was quite the easy sell. I am not sure if my father told the salesman why he picked the Taurus, or why he trusted him with this important purchase.

You see the salesman had on a tie that was Irish in theme. I am not sure if it was a St. Patrick's Day tie or if it had clovers on it, or if it was even anywhere near the holiday itself, but one look at that tie and my father's 'trust' instinct kicked in and he felt safe.

Why did I tell that story. Because my father is creature of habit. Predictable, steadfast, decisive.

When it came time to choose the doctor/s that would care for him during his recent medical situation - he seemed to take the same philosophy in choosing his doctor that he did that Ford Taurus. No, it has nothing to do with a tie, this is better and just as adorable, and oh so like Dad.

His regular doctor sent him to the hospital to get the diagnosis on his back. The hospital gave him several choices of local doctors to choose from to take him through the procedures and all follow-up care pertaining to his condition. I am going to exagerate just a bit. Imagine the list had the following names on it:

Dr. Smith
Dr. Jones
Dr. White
Dr. Barbalinardo
Dr. Cole

Who do you think he chose? Who, by just the name, sounded as if he came from a legacy of sculptors, artists, or great architects of famed cathedrals? Yup, he chose the Barbalinardo brothers of Montclair.




And once again, like the Taurus that lasted my father almost a decade, he chose well.
Way to go pops.

A rose...