“He’s back in the E.R. again. . .going where he’s already been. . .”
Got a call from my sister while on my way home from church. Daddy is back in the hospital. Despite things not being “quite right” and some chest tightness and some out of whack blood sugar and equally out of whack heart beats, he was determined to go to church this morning.
But he went to the hospital in an ambulance instead. Of course, he walked OUT the front door of the house under his own power (one-legged power that is) and climbed onto the gurney himself.
I say all of this with humor, but that is just to beat back the raging fear that lives in me every second of every day. I dread every phone call from home. I hate seeing my brother or sister’s numbers–or Momma’s cell number for fear that the worst has come.
My faith is not weak. I am not in despair. I am just realistic.
I am also the daughter of Harold Watts–a man who tends to bounce. But his elasticity is wearing a bit thin these days–his panty hose, they are shot.
So. Please keep him in your continued prayers–especially keep my mother there as well. And me too–it is hard to be the one so far away from home.
They celebrate their 45th anniversary this Friday. They are quite a pair.