Her name was Hernia.

– What kind of cookie do you want, Dad?

I ask in a cool cat coffee shop near Fan Tan Alley.

–       Not the marijuana kind.

He says, referring to a medicinal suggestion I made earlier.

–       Do you know what a hernia is?

Asks Dr. James.

–       The name of a little girl in a comic strip?

Says Dad.

He is in pain.

–       This isn’t pain. I suffered from the gout for years.

He says.

–       That was like walking in the desert on your eyeballs. This is nothing.

Nothing is slowing him down. He’s been waiting months for surgery.

–       It’s best we don’t put him to sleep. He’s a high-risk candidate.

Says the anesthesiologist.

–       Don’t put this old dog down.

He says.

The pre-op consultation is a successful flirtation.

–       When will I be seeing the blue-eyed doctor again?

He asks.

Surgery is now remembered as his next date with her.

He stays in the car while I drop off year-end paperwork to his accountant.

–       People will think I’m playing with myself.

He laughs with his hand down his pants.

–       But I’m pushing my guts back into my stomach.

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About Morbid Optimist

My name is Katryna Mary Brooke Ormiston. I am 35 years old and after living in Vancouver for a decade, I am returning home to my 81 year old father’s hobby farm on Vancouver Island to care for him in the final stages of his life. This blog is to document my journey, process my experiences along the way and hopefully share and feel connected to a community beyond the three and a half acres I find myself on. A message in a bottle in the cyber-sea.
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4 Responses to Her name was Hernia.

  1. vicki pierobon says:

    Oh dear-another bridge to cross!!?! Hope everything goes well and delighted you still have your sense of humor Katy–big hugs coming your way!-Vicki

  2. misslillies says:

    Well he seemed in good spirits today! LOVE you’re stories.

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