Prayers for My Dad

If you're reading this today, please say a prayer for my father (better known as "Bigfoot"--and don't even think about calling him "Grandpa"!), who is undergoing surgery on his foot.

Dad had poor circulation in his leg, which led to the development of ulcers that wouldn't heal on the bottom of his right foot.  First came surgery to open up the artery and get the blood flowing again in that leg; but the infection was a stubborn one and ending up spreading to the bone, which resulted in surgery to remove his pinkie toe.  Apparently, the infection is still hanging on, so today he has to have some more bone removed from that foot.

True to form, Dad/Bigfoot is handling this latest setback with his usual aplomb.  Here is the e-mail that he just sent out to us kids, letting us know about his upcoming surgery:

"Exciting news, fans.  This Friday, Nov. 2nd, I enter the hospital (AGAIN!) to have a little more infected bone chopped out of my right foot...I should be discharged Monday the 5th. Before I get home, your mother will have gotten a short course in how to inject penicillin into yours truly's body.  Outside of the foregoing, everything here is dandy!"

My father has never been a complainer, although most people would think he's had plenty of reasons to ask, "Why me?"  His own father died when he was a little boy of six, and he and his sister were raised by their mother, a grandmother, and some young unmarried aunts. Dad never had a male role model around to guide him into manhood; and yet he found his way, marrying the love of his life at 21 and successfully raising five children with her.  He did struggle when those children were all teenagers at the same time, and maybe during those years he didn't always handle things the right way (although does anyone really know what the "right way" is?); but he always loved us.  And without a doubt, he always loved our mother.  You know that famous saying, "The best  thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother"?  Well, he did that for the five of us, in spades.

Great-Bigfoot with my granddaughter Kewpie last Christmas--he had to get right down on the floor with her!

And here he is nuzzling Kewpie's twin, Bonny, while Mom looks on.

My mother, his sweetheart and wife of 56 years, is now his competent, no-nonsense nurse. She takes no guff from him and teases him into laughter, so she's probably the best medicine there is for him.  She will tell you that he can be a crotchety and demanding patient, and I don't doubt her.  But one thing he doesn't do is act like he feels sorry for himself, even though I think a lot of people in his shoes would be feeling very sorry for themselves indeed.

Please keep my poor Daddy-o in your prayers today (and my mother, too--because as much as I love that guy, I know he's a patient who's going to try her patience!).  God willing, this surgical procedure will take care of the problem, once and for all.