took the old man for cataract surgery.
it was not officially a hospital, but he considered it one and insisted this was the first visit since he was six years old when he had his tonsils taken out.
he was nervous.
like a six year old getting his tonsils taken out.
so far the best part for the rest of us is that he has a new list of instructions to read.
they replaced his pre-op list with a post-op list and it's longer.
anyway, i kept telling him it's gonna be worth it and when he's done, he'll be glad he did it.
however, he was not very interested in hearing that.
not when he was dancing with death, as he'd have us believe.
and he wasn't even going to get ice cream in the end.
while we waited for his return from surgery, patients twice his age and half his stature were filing out on the wings of great praise from the nurses.
"oh he was a great patient!"
"oh she was fantastic. you should be so proud!"
when pops came out, it was, "who is the owner of this one?"
and no wonder.
he sort of had a dean martin/richard simmons thing going on.
he was dancing and slurring and having a grand old time.
god knows what he said to the doctors.
but we think he was flagged—something about the next time they'll be more conservative about the anesthesia.
oh well, we were happy to claim him just the same.
he is ours after all.