Pops.

Exactly one week from today, my dad will be on his way back to the Philippines for 6 months. This isn't anything new. Since he went into retirement after I finished school, he's been shuttling between Manila and New York every six months. His plans include finding a professorship at his alma mater, the University of the Philippines. This year, he came back to New York just in time to watch my sis walk across the stage to get her diploma.

Since I knew he was leaving, I really didn't expect to feel too much. Business as usual. But this past Friday, he was admitted into the hospital to get some minor surgery. It was unexpected because he just had a regular check-up on Tuesday and at the end of the week he was in the hospital. Man...things haven't stopped in the past few weeks.

Yesterday morning my mom had to pick him up from the hospital because I had to be in Jersey. And what do they do as soon as they get out of the hospital? They head over to my cousins house and have a lunch of crispy pata, lumpia and all the Filipino food that landed him in the hospital in the first place.

Oy. Filipinos are a strange bunch. We'll complain of what ails us, but at the same time, we'll just keep on doing what we do for fear of change. I'm generally speaking you understand. It also has to be said that doctors make the worst patients. Pops knows better...he has years as a physician under his belt but...I guess the rules only apply to his patients. I won't get into how he's also a retired Army colonel and how he should have been at the pinnacle of health for a man his age.

I'm a little worried. Not only because this is the second time he's landed in the hospital for heart related problems, but also because the men in the family have all had some sort of heart problem. That means that I'm included in that group and that I have to start watching what I eat and keep up my workouts.

I really never thought the day would come where I'd have to keep tabs on my dad the way he kept (still keeps) tabs on me.