Parenting Skills

Becoming a grandparent revives long dormant parenting skills, but there’s nothing like tending to your grown-up child to truly bring out paternal instincts.

Ellie had minor foot surgery Monday (almost all surgery on someone else is “minor,” whereas even an ingrown toenail cleaning is major if it’s your big toe being rooted around by the doctor. It’s like the often-used line about the economy—it’s a recession if your neighbor loses his job, it’s a depression if you do).

While in college, Ellie hurt her left foot rock climbing. Ten years later the pain and discomfort reached an intolerable level, so with Gilda’s able parenting and medical expertise, Ellie scheduled surgery first thing Monday morning. She stayed with us Sunday night, which meant we had to wake up at 4 am to prepare and get to Beth Israel’s outpatient facility on Union Square (where Gilda conveniently works) by 5:45. She was the first surgery on the docket, yet that still meant a two and a half hour wait until they took her. An hour later we stood by her bed waiting for the anesthesia to fully wear off.

While Gilda went to work on the floor above the surgical unit, Ellie and I made our way back home around noon where my caring manner was put to the test. Every hour I changed the ice pack on her foot. I set up her room with pillows to elevate her foot, an extra blanket nearby in case she needed it, her phone charger plugged into the wall socket next to the bed. I tiptoed around the house, lest my stomping annoy her. For good measure, I also tried to repair two recalcitrant toilets, both of which went on the fritz shortly after Ellie came home Sunday (I couldn’t help but notice the coincidence).

By 5 pm Ellie seemed well on the road to recovery, inconvenience her only issue. She has to wear a short walking boot, even in bed; she has to use crutches to get around, even to the bathroom; she has to keep her foot elevated; there was nothing enticing to watch on TV.

I, on the other hand, am waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Will I be confronted with an issue I can’t handle? Will I fumble my chance to be helpful—already on the ride home I bumped into her foot while it was extended on the armrest between the two front seats. Wait, I hear her water glass clinking from the other room. Is that her way of subtly calling me? Well, it’s time to change the ice pack again...