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Sentimental Journey

Gonna take a sentimental journey…
Sentimental journey home…

Last week my dad and his recently-minted 89 years came to Columbus, checked into The James Hospital and had 7 hours of surgery for papillary thyroid cancer.

My brother-in-law Joe, being far too well aquainted with surgery at The James, graciously shepherded dad and his wife through the whole ordeal. Dad went back for pre-op at 9 AM. Then there was a delay, and another… and he was 3 hours late going into the OR. Then the grueling hunt for tiny cancer nodes. It was 10 PM before that elderly man and his exhausted 84 year old wife were deposited in a room on the 21st floor to try to get some sleep. Everyone was worn out- even me, and all I did was sit at home and fret!

When I came to visit the next morning, he looked… well- better than I thought he would. His scar (which he would ask for repeated photographs of over the days to watch the progression of the bruising) looked like a nightmare…

But my dad was smiling and cracking jokes.

What's the difference between thyroid surgery and a mugging?
Dunno- what's the difference, Dad?
Nothing! They both take all your money and slit your throat.

We had been told that he would be hoarse after the procedure and there was a small chance he would lose his voice. And so, to enable him to call for people without raising his voice, and in honor of his great love of the Marx Brothers, I bought him a Harpo Marx clown horn. And a top hat, because of course!

But his voice, like the rest of him, bounded back quickly.
After a few days of him neither eating nor sleeping particularly well, the wound drains came out and the doctors let him go. I had volunteered to stay with them at their place after surgery in case they needed assistance, so I picked them up and drove them back to Athens.
I have satellite radio in my car, and a few years ago I had discovered a 40's station that played the artists whose LP's I remember my dad playing when I was a kid and I thought he might enjoy listening to that as we drove. It used to be called "the 40's on Four" because it was on channel 4, but not any longer. hoping they hadn't eliminated it completely, on the way to the hospital I was punching my way through the station offerings at every red light, looking for it. I got as far as #72 but hadn't found it.

After Dad got settled in my front seat and Dawn in the back and we were headed to the freeway, I started checking stations again- and it was the very next: #73, "40's Junction".
"Hey Dad- how do you like this song?"
"Oh this sounds- is that Count Bassie?"
"It is!"

For the next hour and a half we listened to the classics, and Dad tried to name the musicians, or the tune. If he couldn't guess, he at least had some nugget of information about the musician, or the singer, or the style of music they were playing and why it was popular. Good thing he didn't lose his voice, because he talked or sang along non-stop.
At a traffic light after we pulled off the highway for beverages, a song with a particularly good rhythm came on. Dad beat out the pattern on his legs and the car door- i used the steering wheel. We leaned our heads close, he rumbed a soft baritone while I harmonized up high.

And suddenly my eyes were misting up and I had to rub them, because it was one of those perfect, quintissential Dad moments. 
Like working at his basement workbench together, among the smell of wood shavings and machine oil,

Or hiking a trail and listening to him talk about a flower or tree,

or crawling around on the ground to get the perfect photo angle, Dad and the big-band music he loves is my dad at his best. His happiest.

 

He is recovering well (and was, in fact, doing rather more puttering around in the 94 degree heat yesterday then I thought he should be doing yesterday) but I don't imagine he will be doing those other "dad" things much any more, if at all. And so I am doubly grateful that, thanks to my satellite radio, me and my dad got to have 90 minutes of easy, pure happiness together.

Gonna take a sentimental journey.
Gonna set my heart at ease.
Gonna make a sentimental journey
to renew old memories.

Never thought my heart could be so yearny.
why did I decide to roam?
Gonna take that sentimental journey:
Sentimental journey home.