Your Father Is Having "Cardiac Problems"

I had lunch with my Mom on Saturday and somewhere between talk of her recent trip to California, my dog and Sarah Palin, she casually throws in..."Your father is having cardiac problems." Umm, what? Why is this the first time I’m hearing this and when did you plan on telling me? She offers me little to no details and quickly changes the subject, leaving me in the dark. And that’s where I’ve been the last 48 hours or so - in the dark. Worrying. Wondering. Even praying I misheard her or that it’s some type of sick joke. Could that be possible? Please let that be the case! I’m sooo much like my father it’s scary. Just the thought that he could have a heart attack or...I can’t even say the word. I’m beyond freaked out! I find my hands shaking a little just writing this. I immediately go into denial, as I’m sure my father is there too. He has always prided himself on the fact that he’s in the same shape he was at age 18. Obviously I didn’t know the man at 18, but I can testify that he hasn’t gained a single pound since I was born. He’s in great health, or at least he/we thought. Like me, he’s a "go with the flow" laid back kind of guy. So I doubt he is worrying about this, or at least doesn’t show it. Most likely, he’s in denial. I don’t think my Mom is in denial though, but she is denying me details.

I’m having trouble thinking clear. And even if I had more details on this, I probably wouldn’t be able to write about it. It’s perhaps my biggest fear, losing my Mom or Dad. It’s something that scares me shitless and because of that, I completely shut down when it comes to talking about it. So as I write this vague post, I’m watching "Meet Joe Black" on TV. It’s a chick flick, but a favorite movie of mine. I can’t help but compare Anthony Hopkins scripted role of "Bill Parish" with the unscripted real life of my father. I wonder if he has a similar conversation with himself. If he asks himself that question...

The great Bill Parrish at a loss for words? The man from whose lips fall "rapture" and "passion" and "obsession"? All those admonitions about being "deliriously happy, that there is no sense living your life without." All the sparks and energy you give off, the rosy advice you dispense in round, pear-shaped tones.

The question you've been asking yourself with increased regularity, at odd moments, panting through the extra game of handball, when you ran for the plane in Delhi, when you sat up in bed last night and hit the floor in the office this morning.

The question that is in the back of your throat, choking the blood to your brain, ringing in your ears over and over as you put it to yourself.

The question.

Am I going to die?