It Couldn't Have Waited Another 30 Or 40 Years?

A little while ago my mother called.
It’s kind of funny (though not really “ha ha” funny) how when you know someone a long time (like all your life, for example), there are all sorts of subtle nuances to her behavior that other people might not notice, but which you pick up on right away.
For example, as soon as I heard the “something’s wrong” tone in her voice, I knew that, not surprisingly, something was wrong.
(Of course, the fact that she was calling me in the afternoon on a day when she’d already talked to me was also an indicator of a problem)
I was also able to determine, based on the level of barely-restrained hysteria in her voice, that something was wrong with my dad.
The upshot is that, at the moment, he’s okay, but he’s been admitted to the hospital and they are running tests on his heart.
Basically, he’d been having some extreme pains and was driving erratically so my mother insisted that he go to the hospital. The fact that he agreed is a pretty good indicator of just how much pain he must have been in at the time.
At this point they don’t know for sure if it actually is a problem with his heart or if it’s just some kind of gastrointestinal problem. Some of the heart tests have come back okay, but others have shown some possible irregularities. Also, if it were a gastrointestinal problem it’s unlikely that the nitroglycerin they gave him would have instantly taken away his pain.
In any case, they’re keeping him in for observation and to run some additional tests on him.
Ever since he turned 70 a little over a month ago I’ve found myself becoming increasingly concerned about something like this happening. It just seemed like a matter of time, but I was hoping that it wouldn’t happen for a while yet.
Based on family history, and my dad’s sheer stubbornness, the odds are extremely good that he’ll bounce back from this, but it will still serve as a scary reminder of just how limited his time might actually be, and as much as I don’t like to think about it, something like this can’t help but make me think about it.
As I write this, the thought that someday my dad might be gone keeps welling up in my mind like bile in my stomach (and bile is also welling up in my stomach), and I’m finding it difficult to continue writing as I imagine what a rotten, miserable place this world would be without my dad in it.
I’m hoping that rotten, miserable world remains an unwelcome thought in my head for a long time to come.
Okay, I need to do something else to get my mind off this subject. I didn’t expect it to hit me like this. When I talked to my mother I was calm, and I was confident that my dad would be fine, but as soon as I sat down to write and started really thinking about it…well, like I said, I need to get my mind off of it.
In the meantime, if any of you have any kind of cosmic favors you can call in to make sure my dad comes out of this okay, I’d appreciate it, along with any prayers or positive energy you can put out there for him.
I’m sure I’ll be back later with a more traditional entry, and I’ll keep you posted on my dad’s status as I learn more.