My Dad's Heart Bypass Operation

Holy Cross Hospital, Calgary, Alberta

The year before my parents went to Kenya, my dad had a heart bypass operation. The operation was at Holy Cross Hospital, I think this was somewhere near Elbow Park south of downtown Calgary. After my dad had the operation, I drove my mother down to visit him. He was just out of intensive care. We went to his room. There was just my dad and a nurse in the room. My dad was lying half upright in a bed. He had intravenous hooked up, and something was hooked up to his throat to provide oxygen. His upper torso was not covered and I could see his chest had been shaved, and there was a huge scar with big stitches down the center of his breastbone area.

When he saw me and mother, he got very excited. He couldn’t talk so he motioned me to come over. He kept trying to use sign language to communicate with me. Over and over he would point to himself and himself and shake his head. I would try to say the words as he made the gestures. “Me” as he pointed to myself. “You” as he pointed to himself. “Not” as he would shake his head. Then he would get excited and try to get me to make the connection, so I would try saying “Me, you, not, I am not you. Yes. I am not you” Then he would frown because I was obviously not getting the point he was trying to make. Finally he starting pointing out the window which was behind me. I said “window”. He shook his head and squinted his eyes like he was trying to block the sunlight. I said “sunlight”, he nodded encouragement, and I finally said “sun”, which he nodded agreement. He then tried the whole thing again, him making the gestures, me speaking the words.

Pointing to me “I”, then shaking his head “not”, then pointing to himself, “you” and finally pointing to the sun “Sun”. “I am not you son… I am not your son.” He smiled a big smile and emphatically nodded his head in agreement. I felt very, very strange. I felt kind of uncomfortable and embarrassed. I don’t remember any reaction from my mother. She stood away from the bed and I am sure she was as puzzled as I was. My dad then motioned for a pad and pencil so he could write something.

He wrote a name on the paper, and passed it back to me. The name looked very strange. I spoke the name, and he gestured again. I got the feeling that he was trying to convey to me that this was the name of my father. He motioned back for the pad and wrote another name on top of the other which was a more familiar looking name. While I am not sure of my recollection on the names which were written, I do think the names were maybe Eugene Moncla, both names written in block capital letters. I spoke the name and said “He is my father?”, to which my dad nodded emphatic agreement. He then did something which confused me even more. He pointed to the name on the paper, and then pointed to me. I asked as a question “He is me?” to which my dad also nodded agreement. I was now very confused. I think I spent some time trying to sort it out which my dad meant. He just kept agreeing with me when ever I asked either question. I was wondering if this might have been something related to the medication. It seemed strange to see my dad so animated, and oddly, he seemed extremely happy like he had just discovered something wonderful. When I left, I put the piece of paper in my wallet and would over the next several days take it out and look at it.

After a while, the incident faded from memory and it was only recently that I remembered that strange day when I went to see my dad after his operation.

Note: This occurred in 1978, which means I was about 23 years old.