love ya, d!!

i still haven't spoken to my dad, but from what kimmy (his wife of over 20 yrs) tells me, he did everything right and will be OK. i could be wrong on a few details b/c the information i have is gathered via one crackly cell conversation from the hospital waiting room (i assume that, as at tradeshows, to go outside for better cell reception means a very long walk down a very long corridor to wait for an elevator that will take you down 20 flights to the lobby via "the local" to then have to walk 1/2 of a mile to the final egress). my dad is in CCU, so there are no phones and one is not permitted to use cell phones in there b/c of the machines. even though it is I who is dad's pride & joy, of course it was steven who was first to reach dad on his cell at hospital and spoke with my dad for several minutes until nurse mildred ratched came in and put the kibosh on that. ANYWAY, from what i hear, my dad did everything right (i think i may have already said that, so sue me--i'm distracted): my dad felt some symptoms, called an ambulance, and (this is where i am fuzzy) either had the heart attack in the bus (thanks, law & order--bomp bomp) or at hospital after he arrived. apparently he'll be fine, but i won't know that for certain until i actually speak to my dad b/c he doesn't lie to me or hide me from the truth. hell, he wouldn't even shelter me from seeing halloween when i was 7 and poltergeist when i was 8, so he is certainly not concerned about the fear factor...

the thing that i can't wait to find out is HOW exactly this was able to happen at all. last year my dad had prostate cancer. he caught it uber-early on, went through 45 days in a row of radiation monday - friday (he got thanksgiving off--woot!). they actually put little beads inside his pelvis and zapped them every day for 15 mins or some crazy shizz like that. oh, and hospital was a 45 minute drive each way. talk about a friggin' wrench in your day! good thing my dad likes to sing to the oldies on the radio--holla to johnnie mathis, for the love of christ. during his radiation therapy, my dad claims to have never felt overly tired or sore or anything--doctor's said he did great and all has been clear since december. lee schulman is the poster-child for this therapy. (my other dad, rabbi dad, is the poster-child for the surgical therapy with prostate cancer, but that's another story another time.)

so, i'm curious to know--how did this happen? my dad has normal cholesterol, he is slim, he is (like me) a pescetarian who enjoys food but watches his diet, he walks every day, and on top of it, i am SURE my dad has been having regular check-ups since radiation finished, which was only +/-7 months ago. how the hell could he have a heart attack? maybe the self-employed get crap benefits and they didn't monitor that shizz.

by the way, this image was on the T'shirt he wore to the first day of his treatment:

i guess you need some background on my dad, but some other time. quick fix: d is extremely artistic and has a very...um...black and crude sense of humor. to him, there aren't many things or topics that are inappropriate, and he is overtly sexual. a true swingin' singles guy in the 70's--white leather loafers and all, girls. nights at the disco. hot tub parties. playboy clubs. many many stories to come. and ya gotta love him more for each one. i know it is hard to believe, but i have a little (???) of him in me.

my dad wore the same hat to every radiation treatment--it became his signature with the nurses: [please note: b/c BSUR is sold out of this classic item for the moment, i am unable to find a proper image to post below; therefore, i must trust you to please imagine the following artwork on a faded navy cap--the color of which brings out my dad's baby blues. carry on...]
why did he do this? not because my dad especially loves beer; ever since schlitz and PBR have become less available, i think he's more of a wine drinker. no, the reason he donned this cap every day (e-v-e-r-y-d-a-y) is b/c his little cha-cha bear, his chach, his p, his babe, his baby girl, his "yes, sir, that's my baby, no sir i don't mean maybe..." is, well, let's face his, his favorite of all his children. you can have 20 boys (he has 3), but boys have NO hope against the youngest child who happens to also be....a curly headed little girl. suck it. :)

more to follow...on my way out to take a LONG, hard core walk around this fine city with my iPod, my phone, and my smartwater in tow. my dad used to make me run 10Ks with him when i was 8. this is in his honor. i told you there are stories!!! you thought p. schulman had stories--you've heard NOTHIN'....

i can't wait to hear my dad's voice. :)