Thursday, March 6, 2014

"No One Can Ever Take That Away From You"


That's me in 1973, in my dad's arms with my beaming sister, Mary Susan nearby.  My sister and I had a father who worked extra hard to make sure we felt loved.  My dad's father died when he was 14, his mother eventually became institutionalized due to mental illness, and his older brother committed suicide - in today's time, his suicide would have been attributed to PTSD due to serving in the war.  I don't think my dad ever fully grieved his losses - it certainly would explain his own troubles with addition.  I am my father's daughter and I often wonder if I've been carrying that guilt and grief around too (both his and mine).  He did have his flaws, but he was my dad and he had such a gift for making everyone around him feel special; I really miss watching the Southern Gentleman work a room.

My dad was a proud Veteran and often had little sayings related to his military service.  Whenever we accomplished something, he would say to us that we've earned a badge and "no one can ever take that away from you." I had been having lots of mixed emotions about my recent neurosurgery and I had been thinking a lot about my dad, wondering what he would have thought about all my medical struggles over the years.  I just needed that boost that only Garland Clement Bounds could give me.

When I arrived for my pre-op a few days before surgery, I really connected with the Nurse Practitioner who was ensuring all my tests were complete and everything was set for my surgery.  We had shared a couple of stories, she told me her brother-in-law had just had the same procedure and was doing great, she made me feel at ease and I could feel my tension easing up.  At the end of our appointment, she said, "You are in good hands, you will do fine, getting this osteoma out will be like a badge, a badge of courage."  I couldn't believe it - I remember feeling my whole body slip down a bit on the exam table, like some kind of comedic pratfall. I walked out of the examination room and said quietly to myself, "Thanks for coming with me, Dad, I really needed that."

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