When I think of Father’s Day, I see myself surrounded by children and grandchildren — usually eating lunch somewhere. If I am fortunate, I am not the one grilling.
This year had a different twist. We were already planning to head to Atlantic Beach with Hannah and Abby for a few days.
Mama Rachel had a three-day conference in Wilmington, so we kept the girls for her. Michael had a one-day meeting on Thursday, so we were trading girls for boys when Rachel came to pick up the girls on Wednesday evening.
These elements formed The Plan. As John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
During our church service Sunday morning, I received a text. Of course, my phone was on silent. Fortunately, Lydia and little Laney came to visit Saturday and spent the night so they could go to church with us. She had put her phone on vibrate. Just as we were sharing prayer requests, the text came.
“Isaiah is having an emergency appendectomy.”
On Saturday, he complained about pain — in his arms, legs, hands. On Sunday, Mama Jimmi heard Isaiah moaning.
“My tummy hurts too bad to stand up,” he said.
Jimmi bundled up Isaiah and headed out the door to the ER in New Bern. Now, some of you may think she overreacted. After all, don’t kids complain about aches and pains all the time?
Not Isaiah. He is a warrior.
Once, Isaiah got whacked in the nose during a football game. Yeah, he cried … because his dad pulled him from the game to staunch the nosebleed. Isaiah wanted to stay in, ignore the blood, and keep playing. Get the picture?
At the ER, blood work showed an elevated white count. That fact, coupled with pain in the abdomen, led doctors to believe he was having an attack of appendicitis. They performed emergency surgery, removed his appendix, and treated an infectious abscess in his abdomen – not the Father’s Day gift Daddy Michael had in mind.
We stopped by the hospital to visit Isaiah on our way to complete Phase I of The Plan: picking up two curly-headed girls. Isaiah looked so tiny in the bed. He had several tubes protruding from his body. I was thankful he was asleep.
The nurse explained that Isaiah would be in the hospital three or four days. He had to “toot” and eat solid food before he could be discharged. He also had to expand the “raisins” in his lungs back to “grape-size” because of the anesthesia, the nurse explained.
Our fears assuaged, we picked up the girls, checked into our resort and unpacked.
Modified Plan: Pick up Michael the next day and take him to my house to get his mom’s car.
But by Monday The Plan again changed. I still had to pick up Michael, but he needed to go to the hospital. Isaiah had already “tooted,” and his doctor said he was doing so well that he could go home. Abby rode with me on the grand loop around Emerald Isle, through Maysville, to Michael’s house and then to New Bern.
When Michael, Abby and I arrived at Isaiah’s room, he was sitting in a chair and wolfing down pizza and a fruit cup — less than 24 hours after surgery. His color was back to normal, and he was all smiles. Despite being “opened up,” as the nurse said, the only pain medication he was getting was Tylenol.
The only time he cried was when the nurse removed the tape securing the IV. Isaiah has hairy arms for a little fellow, and pulling off the tape tore the hair from his arm. I gave him two of my fingers to squeeze to help manage the pain, a decision I later regretted.
By Wednesday evening, Isaiah seemed his normal self.
I told you — the boy is a warrior.
Mike Parker is a columnist for The Free Press. You can reach him at mparker16@suddenlink.net or in care of this newspaper.