Well sorta. The photo has been on Twitter for a few days, and it was just a bigger, easier to see copy of the same one. When I say it like that it doesn't seem so cool anymore.
Instead I sit here in tears with my trip to Sydney in jeopardy. I'm torn between meeting all these wonderful people and staying in Perth to be with my Dad.
My Dad got very sick about 6 months ago. A nasty virus. The virus traveled to his heart and it was left permanently weakened. It's called Viral Cardiomyopathy.
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| Laughter is the best medicine, yadda yadda, yadda |
They decided not to operate to fix the valve because his heart was only working at 50% capacity and they wanted it to rest and 'recover' a bit, work a little better, before they operated - I may have that completely wrong, but in my rattled state that's how I remember it being explained to me.
In the past few days he has been for so many tests and they've found his heart is now working at 35% capacity. The dodgy valve makes the blood pool and the heart get even bigger and weaker. The bigger, weaker heart is in turn worsening the valve. It's a lovely merry-go-round.
Even though it's dangerous to operate they don't really have a choice now. The valve is worsening and the muscle is not coping under the extra pressure.
He's undergoing the pre-surgery tests in the next few days and the surgeons are trying to get him in sometime next week, though it might be the week after.
Open heart surgery.
But it's just stalling tactics. His cardiologist is expecting him to be put on the transplant list.
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I feel terrible for even wanting to go to Sydney now. I should be by his bedside, holding his hand and bringing Tricky in to see him. Tricky is his medicine. No matter how bad he feels, when Tricky smiles (and he's Pop's boy so he always smiles) everything is right in the world for him.
But I can't not go to the conference. I have corporate sponsors who have paid for me to go. I have an obligation to be there, representing their brands.
My mum was coming with me to be a nanny for Tricky so I could go to the pre-conference drinks and the conference dinner. (Note to my sponsors: don't panic, you're not paying for the nanny service, she bought the ticket herself) We're trying to get the tickets changed so that someone else can come with me.
I keep telling myself that this is routine surgery. His surgeon (a professor, ooh la la!) will be rolling his eyes and complaining that it's just another valve job. But on such a weak heart?
All I can think is that the bloody whingey chick in Beaches had the same thing... and we all know how that ended.
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Meet Glowless at the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to
