ICU

We're in ICU (no, I don't see you, I'm in Jacksonville. You're somewhere on the internets. Haw, haw, haw. That just doesn't get old). My dad, the brain surgery patient/superstar, is up and talking and joking. He just chowed down on roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, coffee and cranberry juice. Dad says, "That was good... Better than hospital food, really." He's even groped my mom. I guess 48 years of marriage don't change much. Even after brain surgery.

I can honestly say I have never been so ecstatic to watch someone eat roast beef. And he's placing his breakfast order for tomorrow.

I'll spend tonight in the ICU with him and make sure that he gets everything he needs (I know I needn't worry: the doctors and nurses here at the Mayo clinic are fantastic. Absolutely outstanding, seriously). Though it sounds altruistic that I am volunteering to spend the night in the hospital with my dad, the truth is, I feel so lucky to have the chance to hang out with him. With several states between us and six other siblings, I don't get many opportunities to do this. Bring on the CSI episodes and menu planning.