Sunny night in Georgia

Don't you just love people who quit posting to their blog, start a new one and then quit posting to that one, too?

I learned last Saturday as my husband and I were getting ready to go to a luncheon that my father was critically ill in Florida. I live in West Virginia. That call came around noon; we were in Florida by 4 a.m. Sunday.

He was in septicemic shock due to an infected knee replacement; the infection was throughout his bloodstream and was attacking his vital organs. Kidneys first, which meant dialysis. Then his heart - he suffered an MI Sunday or Monday. He needed surgery to remove the infected knee appliance but was too ill to have the surgery.

His doctors eventually decided to sedate him, scope the knee and flush it with antibiotics rather than put him under a general anesthetic. This is a stopgap measure; he will eventually have to go through the surgery but not until after he's been on IV antibiotics for three or four weeks.

I consider myself a spiritual person, although not a particularly religious one. The only way my dad was going to recover was through the power of prayer, and that power was present in a big way. On Monday I thought he was going to die. Last night he was singing! This morning before I started back home he was drinking coffee and eating grits. God is good, and miracles happen.

He'll have a long, difficult recovery ahead. At least two more knee surgeries and months of rehab. He's still confused and trying to puzzle out how he could have lost eight days of his life. He thinks he lives in Ohio and it's December, but he knows his dog's name. And mine.

I'm in Savannah now, about halfway home, and this is the first chance I've had to get on a computer that will let me access Blogger. (The hospital system blocks blogs, MySpace and YouTube - all the fun stuff.) Sorry about being MIA all week, but my priorities were in order, I think.

Go hug your dads, and tell them you love them.