Life moves on

I used my cane to walk to the store today. My leg was hurting a LOT and the cane actually helped quite a bit while I was out. Who'd have thought that it would make a difference? :) Getting the rhythm right with the cane takes a bit of work but I think I got it in the end.

Of course I felt a little weird while walking around the store. Was it my imagination that the senior guy did a double-take when he saw me with my cane, or that the other guy looked embarrassed when he tried to get his cart past me (another cart was blocking the aisle) and saw my cane? Or am I just self-conscious? Of course I'm a little bit self-conscious but I do think that people were reacting to my cane.

On a brighter note, I excited to say that think that I'm finished my pattern alterations on the pattern I've been trying out. I'm super-excited to be able to use it once I'm finished the final check that my latest changes actually work. Working on the patterns (or making earrings, which is also something I've been wanting to do) helps me stay in the present. It's ok - and normal - to be overwhelmed with grief for my dad and to be consumed by tears, but it's important to continue living my life. When I create things, I find myself immersed in the project; it's very similar to meditation, which has a calming effect on me.

A year ago today (by the day - the date is actually February 8), my dad went into surgery to have an aortal-bifemoral bypass surgery. Basically, they were replacing the aortal and femoral arteries because they were clogged up and he had no circulation in his feet. If he hadn't had the surgery, eventually his feet would become gangrenous due to the lack of circulation and they would have needed to be amputated. We knew that the surgery was risky; he'd had a heart attack about 22 years before, still smoked, and didn't get much exercise, and so there was about a chance he'd have a heart attack during surgery. If he had a heart attack, there was a 50/50 chance he'd die of it.

The morning of the surgery, I remember driving him, my mom, and Ian in my dad's car - the only time I ever drove my dad - to the hospital. I don't really remember much about the day except that the surgeon was supposed to talk to us afterwards and I don't remember him doing so. We finally got to talk to the doctor on-call in the ICU and he said that my dad had had a heart attack during surgery but that he was stable right then. I wonder now if he was trying to convey how serious the situation was without scaring us. We left the hospital that night and returned in the morning. I remember being so scared that my daddy would die. Now I'm so sad that he's gone. I miss him so much.