So I was all set to write a post about how I was brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush and SOMEHOW, GOD KNOWS, the toothbrush went flying out of my hand and fell against every article of clothing I was wearing as it spun wildly around getting toothpaste on everything including my t-shirt and black pinstripe pants before landing RIGHT NEXT TO THE TOILET. EWWWWWWW.

But then my dad fell down and broke his hip.

Oh, yes. You heard that correctly.

My father, man of steel, Mr. Invincible was operated on last night because he tripped over a chair at his local parish’s St. Patrick’s Day Dinner Dance.

I’m kind of mad about this because if you broke your hip, don’t you want a better story than “I tripped over a chair that I didn’t see”???

I mean, my dad is just a pathetic DRAMA QUEEN at this point. He’s just ASKING for attention and I think it’s ridiculous that he has to go break bones in an effort to get me to notice him. I GET IT DAD. Stop exaggerating and making everything about YOU.

I do not know the details as I have not yet been to visit him but from what I understand, he broke his hip in the best possible place. (?!) Technically, the fracture is in his femur, right where the bone hooks into the ball of the hip joint. If you’re a doctor, please correct me because I think I just made that up.

The point is, he did not need a hip replacement. Just some titanium rods.

HA HA LIFE IS SO FREAKING TERRIFYING, YOU GUYS.

They cut him open last night and he is in recovery. He’ll be in the hospital for a few more days and then transferred to a rehab center where I’m sure he will endure the pleasant experience of copious amounts of physical therapy.

I am keeping a good sense of humor about this but then again, I am not the one with titanium rods in my hip.

My sister said the worst thing was seeing him come out of the ambulance at the hospital. Apparently, the pain was so bad that my father was alternately yelling and sobbing which, let’s be honest, I HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE. The man who didn’t even know his finger was broken, who didn’t even know he was walking around for twenty years with a shattered kneecap. COME ON. This is my DAD, we’re talking about. Completely impenetrable.

Um. Not so, anymore. If you trip over a chair at the St. Louis DeMontfort St. Patrick’s Day dinner dance and you can’t find anything to grab to break your fall and you land on your hip, all 230+ pounds of solid Polack weight…

I’m guessing you might scream a little.

Or say, ouch a few times. WITH FEELING.

My sister said it was just awful to witness, my poor helpless dad screaming his face off as six fireman attempted to make him more comfortable. She said she couldn’t help but cry her eyes out, my mom too. I think the only thing that made him comfortable was morphine. Lots and lots of morphine.

I will see for myself tomorrow when I head out to see him. I’m sort of nervous because I know for a fact that I will not enjoy seeing my dad in a hospital bed. But this is not about me. This is about my dad. And I want him to know that come hell or high water, I will BE THERE AT THAT HOSPITAL and I will bring him flowers or a sudoku puzzle or a book or some delicious Thai food, WHATEVER HE WANTS because breaking your hip sounds downright unbearable and I COMMEND YOU, STRONG POLISH WARRIOR OF PAIN.

WHAT.

If you want to go read something happy instead of MY DAD FELL DOWN AT CHURCH AND THEN HE SCREAMED IN AGONY FOR HOURS UNTIL THEY GAVE HIM DRUGS, please venture over to my frequent commenter and dear friend Abbie’s website to say CONGRATULATIONS on the birth of her beautiful baby boy! It just goes to show you. New life is created! And comes into this world! Even when SOME people are breaking their hips and being SUCH FREAKING DRAMA QUEENS.