My Dad is having triple bypass surgery the week of June 26.  He's known for years that his heart wasn't in very good shape...every male member of his family has died before the age of 60.  My Dad turns 59 on June 18.  There are 3 main arteries leading away from the heart that carry blood (and therefore oxygen) to the rest of the body, his are 79%, 89% and 99% blocked.  His body has "fixed" this problem by creating a whole bunch of collateral arteries, which are very small compared to the ones that are meant to carry blood away from the heart.  These smaller arteries are not equipped to do the job right, and my Dad is always tired because his body just isn't getting enough oxygen.  So, in triple bypass surgery, they take some veins from his legs and "build" new arteries to replace the ones that are blocked.  They will crack his chest open, hook him up to a machine that will beat his heart for him during the surgery, cut his leg open, take out 3 big, juicy veins, and attach them to his heart.  Sounds scary, doesn't it? 

Sometimes I really hate knowing this stuff.  I know what happens during surgery, I know what the risks are, and I know that the recovery time (6-8 weeks) will be hell.  But I also know that if it's successful (98% chance), my Dad will finally be able to live the life he so badly wants to.  He won't be tired all the time, he will be able to retire in a few years and travel with my Mom like they want to do. Obviously, heart disease runs in my family, and of course it scares the crap out of me that this could happen to me and my siblings in the not-so-distant future.  My brother is already on medication for high cholesterol (which is the main culprit for my Dad's blocked arteries, by the way)...he's only 28.  So far, my sister and I are fine as far as cholesterol is concerned, but there are so many other risk factors that contribute to plaque buildup in the arteries.

This morning, I was sitting here thinking about my Dad and all his heart issues, and I wondered how such a "good" heart could fail the body?  You see, my Dad has one of the biggest hearts I've ever known (figuratively, of course).  I know every girl is in love with her Dad (or should be), but my Dad has a special place in my heart because of what he's done for me.  I'm not talking about all the usual things that Fathers do for their daughters, like teaching me how to be a good person and make good decisions, how to fix things, how to change a tire, how to fish, camp and play ball.  He did all that for me, and more.  What I'm talking about is true sacrifice.

When I was born, my Dad was in his 3rd year of University taking Mechanical Engineering.  We lived in Port Colborne, ON, and he went to school several hours away in Guelph.  I was born in July, so he was home for the summer, but during the school year, he commuted - came home on the weekends to be with my Mom.  Here comes the sacrifice.  My Mother passed away five days after I was born.  She had a caesarean because I was in breach position, and during her surgery, she contracted an infection.  This infection grew and spread into her blood, and she died of septicaemia.  She never held me, she never bonded with me, I'm not even sure if she saw me.  My Dad was devastated, of course.  Here he was, 24 years old, with a newborn little girl and no wife.  Everybody had advice for him: "give up the child for adoption", "give her to a family member to raise", "quit school and get a job at the mill...you've got responsibilities now".  But not my Dad.

After grieving the death of his wife, he decided that he couldn't give me up...not for anything.  Not only that, he couldn't give me the life he thought I deserved by working at the mill in Small Town, Ontario.  He was so close to finishing his degree and being able to provide me with everything I could ever want.  September was fast approaching, and he had to make a decision.  He asked his eldest sister if she would help him.  My aunt had 2 children of her own, and my Dad asked if she would help him raise me while he finished school.  My aunt took me into her home with no hesitation (of course she did, I was an adorable 6 week old baby!).  My Dad went off to finish his last year of school in Guelph.  He came back to Port Colborne every single weekend to bond and spend time with me.  He gave up his social life, his friends, his weekend job that supported his "fun", he gave up everything.  He wouldn't put it that way, but that's how I see it.

Sometime during that last year of school, he met my new Mom.  They met at a dance specifically for Engineers and Nurses.  To make a long story short, they fell in love quickly, and it wasn't long before my new Mom was making the weekend trips to Port with my Dad.  She didn't have much choice because that's where he was going and he wasn't going to give up our time for any woman.  My new Mom has been in my life since before my 1st birthday - I have pictures of her watching me blow out my candle.  My Dad has since told me that when he met my Mom, he had so much more to consider than just physical attraction...he had to consider that this might be the woman who would help him raise his daughter.  And my Mom also had to consider the fact that she was taking on an "instant family"...my Dad and I were a package deal.  My parents are still married, 33 years later...and they're still in love, and they're still best friends and they're still the ultimate partners. 

Perhaps this story is where I get my strong conviction that everything happens for a reason.  Whenever people hear this story, they say "oh, I'm so sorry about your Mom".  I never met her, I didn't know her, I didn't bond with her.  I will always be grateful that she gave me life, but it was my Dad...and my new Mom...that gave me A life.  They are the ones who made all the sacrifices for me and my brother and sister, they are the ones who enjoyed all my "firsts", they are the ones I will always turn to in times of crisis. 

And now that my Dad is having a little mini-crisis of his own, it is my Mom that I turn to for comfort...and her to me.  We are a family, and although we are not what you'd call a "lovey-dovey" bunch, our ties are strong and our history is colourful enough to bond us together through anything. I've never been one to pray much.  Not because I don't believe in God, and not because I don't believe in prayer power (I have seen it many many times at work), but because I've rarely felt that I had no power over what was happening.  But in this case, I feel completely powerless, and if there's a time to pray, it's now.  I don't want to lose my Dad yet...I'm not ready, and more importantly, neither is he. So, I pray that God holds the surgeon's hands steady, and that He fixes whatever's wrong in the surgeon's life so that he has no stress when he's operating on my Dad.  I pray to God to give my family strength...to give my Dad the physical strength, and the rest of us the emotional strength to support each other through this.

No matter what happens, I know that this will bring my family closer together, and that can never be a bad thing.  But please, God, just let it be a wake-up call...and not a tragedy...that bonds us. I love you Mom and Dad.