Father Cockroach: Dad's referral appointment to the surgeon about the possible removal of his gall bladder was this afternoon. Since his ER visit, Dad hasn't been experiencing the more severe symptoms that come with an excess of gallstones, so the doctor decided that we could safely take a “wait and see” approach with respect to surgery. The doc also told us that an over-the-counter antacid should relieve Dad's mild stomach problems and that being more physically active would contribute to his overall health (“the gut likes to be walked”, a nurse said to me during my recent hospital stay…the phrase put a ridiculous image in my head at time, but yeah, I got the larger point about the link between the body's metabolism and digestive processes).

I asked about Dad's sluggishness and shortness of breath in the morning, and it was suggested by both Dad and the doc that it's likely partially a “mental thing” (senior depression is a widespread but rarely talked about phenomenon, or so I've read) as well as a result of his recent physical inactivity. “You guys are the boss”, said Dad, implying that he'll listen to both the doctor and his family about getting up out of his chair for a bit every day. Dad's track record on listening to family advice is pretty poor (yes, understatement of the decade), but I'll do my best to remind him that he needs to walk daily for both his physical and mental health (not to mention my mental health).

Oh, the title of this post isn't meant to be an insult; it's from a comment the surgeon made. Paraphrasing, he told Dad that “people like you are what I like to call, ‘cockroaches’”, implying that once you've reached Dad's age, your body's survival skills put you on par with the common household pest's. “Franz Kafka to the white courtesy phone, please, Franz Kafka…”