before we left, we contacted all his closest friends and our relatives in toronto to tell them about the situation. it took some sleuthing on my part to find his best friend, bob's number. my dad had tried to tell us, but was getting his numbers mixed up. he mostly called bob using motor memory, and couldn't tell us the number. but after looking up an acquaintance of mine on facebook, who was married to bob's grandson, i was able to figure out the spelling of his last name, and we found his phone number online. he was so glad we'd called him.

the emergency room doctor the night before had told me that my dad was the sickest person in emerge that night. having heard the news that he was in such bad shape that he was not expected to make it through the surgery, it was difficult to know what to expect when we arrived. i had not actually seen him since father's day. it had been a month, which was an unusually long time, considering we lived in the same town and normally i'd see him at least every week. during the pandemic he'd drop by to sit on my porch to read or to chat. he loved our porch.

when we arrived at the hospital, we found our dad in surprisingly good spirits. we had questions about his condition. while the nurse did a scan of his heart, a social worker came by to talk with us. she wanted to know if there was anything he needed, and asked questions about his living arrangements. we were quite discouraged about how he would manage living independently with only one leg, but the social worker told us that in times like this, when the mind wants to live, the body and mind start to work together and adapt. she arranged for a chaplain to come by and visit us, and took joy down to the giftshop to buy my dad some reading glasses. he was having difficulty seeing the numbers on the phone. he was making a lot of phone calls. there were a lot of people he wanted to say goodbye to. sometimes when he dialed, he'd fumble and hit the wrong number. i said to him "dad, use your index finger, instead of your thumb. you keep hitting the wrong numbers". and he said "i always use my thumb". that struck me as something about him that i didn't know.

his legs were bandaged up and elevated. they were covered in so many bandages that it looked as though he had bulky casts on. his legs were puffy, and cold to the touch. one doctor pressed on his right leg, and when he moved his finger away it left an imprint – joy and i just looked at each other as if to say "did you see that?". he asked us "have they said anything about his right leg? it's not that much better than his left". we told him that they had not mentioned it, and he responded saying "they probably don't want to do both legs, because the longer he's in surgery the higher his risk of heart attack". it was clear that his legs were dying.

that doctor was a young anesthesiologist. we spent quite a bit of time with him that day, since he would come and assess my dad's condition to decide on the best method of anesthetic for the surgery – the one that would reduce his risk of dying. my dad was always a social person, and had a habit of asking all about where the doctors/nurses were from, and where they went to school, rather than asking questions related to his health. at one point, he said to the young doctor (believing the man's name was mcdonald) "do you know how many people with the last name mcdonald are anesthesiologists?". the young doctor politely shared his rather eastern european last name, and added "and actually, i don't think i've known any mcdonalds in anesthesiology". we all had a good, comfortable laugh about that. that's pretty much how the day went. we hung out, we joked, we laughed, and chatted. i'd taken the little memoir book with me to fill in. i figured i'd get some more information, but it might provide a few conversation prompters if we ever found ourselves at a loss for what to say. he really enjoyed chatting about his personal history. sometimes he'd ask us questions about what our favourite family vacations had been. we'd already said our goodbyes over the phone that morning, so after that, we were just enjoying being together.

he talked to all joy's kids on the phone, saying goodbye. he talked to my mom (and told her he was sorry – that meant a lot to her), and he talked to both brendan and tim. he chose not to talk with my boys, since he thought they were too young. it was difficult enough for him to know what to say to liam and erin. he was also adamant he wanted caleb to have his watch. he told us "i don't have will. just divide everything between the two of you. i just don't want you fighting over anything", which we both kind of found funny. he didn't have anything anyone would fight over to begin with, but agreed that we wouldn't. he wanted me to call his bank lady, anne, and assured me that she'd help with anything she could. then he said with satisfaction "ok, so miss magoog will be the treasurer".

the medical team had three options for anesthetic. one, a general anesthetic, which was the highest risk of a heart attack. the second, was a local anesthetic in his leg. the third was a spinal (spinal tap i think, but i'm not sure). the second and third options came with the risk of bleeding out, since he was on blood thinners. i was confused, since i thought if they're taking off his leg, wasn't there a high risk of him bleeded out from the operation alone. but the doctor explained that they would cauterize his leg, so he wouldn't bleed out. that made sense. with the local anesthetic and spinal, he would be awake the whole time. i asked him "how would you feel being awake for the whole surgery?" and he simply said "well... i'd learn a lot".

as noon came and went, we were told that his surgery would be around 3. so we continued to wait, chat and he would dose off every once in a while. he claimed he had not slept at all in emerge the night before, but he clearly had since he had no memory of them bandaging up his feet. and we could see for ourselves that he was in and out of sleep, even though he didn't think he was. that, along with his not-great hearing, made it easy to talk plainly with the doctors right in front of him. a catholic priest came in to see us, i assume there had been no protestant chaplains available, which was fine. we made some small talk (one of my dad's brothers is a priest), and the priest suggested we say the lord's prayer together. as we did that, i got choked up with tears.

by mid-afternoon i was getting hungry. and i found myself in the awkward position of wishing my dad would be taken off to his life-threatening surgery so i could go get a sandwich. while it was a natural impulse caused by a grumbly stomach, i felt badly for wanting to wrap things up, rather than get more time. i drank so water, and felt a little better.

in his vulnerable state (which is not uncommon after my dad has major surgery), he opened up about pretty deeply personal things, particularly relating to his faith and his marriage to my mom. and i was grateful for the insights, since it filled in more of my personal story. i understand my family's story better now, although it doesn't comfort me much, seeing how the problems had been preventable, or at the very least worked out under different circumstances.

his surgery was bumped again. so in the late afternoon, joy and i went to get some dinner, and told him we'd be back around 6. when we returned, he was sleeping soundly. we sat quietly with him, and would chat between us a little. eventually he woke up, and immediately made one last, significant phone call.

around 7:30 or 8, we said goodbye and headed home. he was at peace. we each gave him a big hug, and i told him "i love you and i'll miss you". he started to say "i'll miss you too", but then caught himself. in the elevator, i told joy how strange it felt leaving, not knowing if we'd ever see him again. we'd concluded earlier in the day that we would pray "your will be done" and leave it at that. the prospect of life with one leg was also scary, but we'd figure it out later.

by the time i got home, tim had called to tell brendan that the hospital had called and he'd been taken in for surgery. i was wiped, and went straight to bed. i lied awake for a while. my stomach was in deep knots. eventually, i called to brendan in the living room to come lie down with me. having him with me, gave me a chance to cry deeply, and that eased the knots in my stomach some. i tried to prepare myself for his death, but it seemed so sudden and it was so gut wrenching. i didn't want to lose him. 

i'm not sure if i eventually fell asleep, but around 10:30 the phone rang, and brendan came to tell me that he'd made it.