In 2004, thanks to the good graces of an old friend Rupan Trikha, I connected with a doctor who was pretty world class at addressing some of the wonkiness in my vision. It was a material enough exercise but I was in my 20s (barely still) and was pretty cavalier about it all.
One person wasn’t cavalier. My Daddy. He made his way into a 45 minute phone consult with my doctor (a truly world renowned expert, like when other doctors around the world, yes doctors around the world have looked at my eye, look at my eye they will say “who did this? Was it Peter Hersh?”). Dr Hersh was wonderful. Daddy was at his best.
Asking questions. Thoroughly researched and thoughtful and respectful and even honoring Dr Hersh while also making sure all the gaps in my knowledge and his were filled.
When I went in for the procedure, Dr Hersh even commented how lucky I was to have a father who cared so much. His own father, Dr Donald, was his mentor and also my contact lens specialist. It was one of those moments branded on my personal timeline. A thread or moments wrapped into one cohesive thought ending with me acknowledging that I was (and am) blessed.
Today, I’m headed back to that office. To fix some more wonkiness. Dr Hersh is no longer practicing … and my Daddy is no longer able to call in. He left this planet three years ago today. (We still say it was to watch that Super Bowl IN PEACE, go !)
I chose today for this procedure for a reason. I’ve got your shirt on, Daddy. And yeah, I really make 75 look great (it helps that I’m only 45; you did it well at 75 itself).
Thanks for seeing me then. Thanks for helping me see then. Thanks for making time like that, when I needed it most. Thanks.
Like I said on November 19th, I won’t speak of you in the past tense. You’re here. And we got this.
PS: 2021 has been a great year so far. If for no other reason than I actually fit into this shirt now.