Not much new with my dear old dad, he of broken hip staph infection relegated to a wheelchair for eight months fame.

He had a few procedures done, required by the new surgeon and now he sits in his little chair, waiting for the doctor to call with The Precious – the date of his new hip surgery.

It’s been a week and a half now.

The assistant called yesterday to let him know they were still working on it and that he hasn’t been forgotten. Our assumption is that they’re attempting to squeeze him into a cancellation rather than just put him on the end of the list, knowing how long he’s been waiting. It’s irritating not to know exactly what they’re trying to figure out but my father seems satisfied with “We’ll call you as soon as we know”.

“THE THING IS,” he said to me on the phone. “I’M STUCK IN THIS CHAIR STILL. AND AFTER EIGHT MONTHS, WELL. IT’S STARTING TO GET ANNOYING.”

Eight months. And it’s starting to get annoying.

Hi dad, I sprained my knee and ankle six weeks ago and still can’t walk properly or exercise.

Do you know how long it took me to get annoyed?

Pretty sure I was pissed about two seconds after it happened.

“IT’S A HARD LESSON, DEPENDING ON OTHER PEOPLE TO HELP ME.”

“I know, dad. It’s a lesson in relinquishing control.”

“I’M NOT COMPLAINING. YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY, IT’S ALL IN GOD’S TIME. I BELIEVE THAT.”

“I hear you. It’s still frustrating though.”

“WELL WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO, LAWRA? YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, PATIENCE IS GOLDEN.”

…

“Um, dad? I think it’s silence is golden. Patience is a virtue.”

“WELL, PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE, TOO. BOTH PATIENCE AND SILENCE. GOLDEN VIRTUES.”

“You really need to get out of that wheelchair.”

“YOU’RE TELLIN’ ME.”