My heart of hearts...

It feels odd writing this on Valentine's Day, but it really isn't.  In fact, it's perfect in a way.  No, I'm not posting pictures of vintage cards and such.  No links to Tom Jones singing "My Funny Valentine".  So you're not worried: Ben and I will have a lovely evening at home, putting together a romantic dinner, enjoying some nice red wine.  It's all good.

But what's also all good now (but wasn't last night and into the early morning), was my Dad's health.  What appeared to be a really bad cold, ratcheting up into a respiratory infection, turned out to be a cog in the works regarding his congestive heart failure.  Trust me, we're now well-schooled in the differences between the two maladies.  One can make you feel rotten for a few days.  The other can ostensibly pull you out of this world and into another one most of us have yet to view.

With congestive heart failure, one's lungs fill up with fluid.  My poor dad had a horrible rasp, almost a gurgling or gargling sound when he breathed deep.  And his voice was like an even deeper version of Froggy from "The Little Rascals".  When I mentioned Froggy, he perked up a little and gave me a look like I had beanstalks growing outta my ears.

So I'm posting this today about one of my heart of hearts, my daddy, Dan Turlow.  Because he's on the upswing now, out of that scary place where he kept nodding off, couldn't breathe well, didn't know where he was.

He's blessed to have an excellent caregiver who alerted me via a phone call of what was taking place.  Dad's now resting at the hospital, probably flirting with every single gal who comes in to take his temperature.

Ben and I are off to the VA hospital now to visit him.  I'll first swing by the Jewel and get him a big helium balloon, because it's Valentine's Day.  I'll hug him as best I can (since he'll be lying and resting) and make sure he knows I love him.  From the bottom of my heart.