Back in 1993, my daddy had been experiencing health issues. As one might expect, he consulted his physician and within a short period, the diagnosis came back: brain tumor. Of course, they recommended an aggressive treatment plan including surgery to remove the golf-ball sized glioblastoma from its nesting place inside his skull. At the time, he was seventy years old, enjoying retirement in Florida and he had even taken up the game of golf … not so much to play competitively but to regularly enjoy an invigorating time out of doors.
The photo above pictures my parents. I think they must have been eating at a Mexican restaurant, but this was a typical pose for my dad, being silly, finding ways to entertain others. This picture is a perfect example of his playful personality.
As he was prepped before his surgery took place, the hospital personnel chatted with him. They knew the seriousness of this operation and the potential that Daddy could die on the operating table. In his conversations with them, he was his usual buoyant, gregarious self, seeming to show little concern about the outcome. When they queried him (thinking perhaps he simply didn’t understand what he faced), he told them: Whether I live or die, it doesn’t matter. I’m confident in my eternal destination. He was at peace with his situation. Continue reading “Glio Bio Die-O”