Mid-life

Time creeps up on us all. It tends to register more when family starts to fall ill. Recently my grandfather fell ill and my own father and uncle rushed to be with him. The doctor requested that family be there because they thought it was the end for him.

He had a gangrene infection. Hearing about this had my mental imagine of my grandfather floating in my head, trying to figure out which body parts were missing. My first images were the thumb and fingers like Mayhem from those insurance commercials. Then the toes and legs. Hand, arm going from the wrist up.

When my father told me what it was I would have hoped that it would have been a toe. Or a finger. Or a leg. Maybe even an arm. Instead he’ll end up telling us a story about the doctors explaining how the new normal for him would be. And ultimately how he hates what Ray Gillete would call the unspeakable, followed by Kreiger screaming “me too!”

It’s my dad’s birthday. He’s limited to a single drink before having to travel the three hours to Duncan to be with my grandfather and finally convince him that raising cattle at his age and now is condition is going to kill him faster.

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