Lunch meat

I find myself in a very odd place. I am suddenly in the meat of the sandwich generation. Those of us taking care of our aging/ailing parents and our own kids.
I was until recently merely a bit of lettuce or a slice of tomato.
Things like that can change suddenly.
My father is having heart surgery. He is staying in the cardiac ward of a major hospital to prevent another and perhaps debilitating or even deadly heart attack.
Mean while my kids are still in school. Well not THIS week.  This week was the "polar vortex" but they are school aged.
My eldest is a sophomore in high school. I look at her and I remember.
 I remember when I was a sophomore. That year my dad's mom went into the hospital. That year she passed away. After major heart surgery years before, following a major heart attack. I remember the hard chairs and hushed tones of the hospital. I remember the metal staples in her chest. I remember the sounds she made as she struggled against the pain of a truly broken heart. I remember the surprise in learning that a heart can grow collateral arteries and veins to feed parts of itself that had blood flow restricted. I remember the years in the wheelchair and mental decline that followed.
I was not close to my grandmother but I remember. I remember the struggle my dad had with his mother's failing health. I remember the strain on my parents' own marriage.
I am suddenly very grateful for the last 20 years. For the jumps in technology that allowed my dad to have open heart surgery that did not crack his chest completely open. That was guided by computers and monitors. That was sealed shut with a medical grade glue that left only a thin white line down the center of his chest and did not let him see himself stapled together.
I am grateful even as I hear him make the same unique moaning sounds someone with crushing chest pain makes. 20 years ago there came a point at which technology failed. My grandmother's blockage could not be removed by balloon because it was to hard. There was no way to place a stent and nothing more to be done.
Yesterday, they took a diamond coated wire and euphemistically "rota rooted" a hard blockage into cholesterol dust. Placed a stent in my dad's chest and sent him home to rest. He has another procedure scheduled for a week from now but he is already up, walking, and talking and cracking jokes with nothing but a small 2 inch incision healing on his inner thigh.
I sat and heard the Dr.s tell me that my dad's heart has indeed grown collateral arteries to help feed itself. I heard them say as if a direct echo. "The blockage is too hard for a balloon to remove." I listened to my father make those half moaning and half gasping sounds.
I want my dad around a bit longer than he had his mom. I'm selfish that way.
I want my daughters who ARE close to their grandfather to have him around a bit longer.
I would like to remember more things that include my dad.
So I am grateful to remain the meat in this particular sandwich.  Even if it means I am lunch meat.
Maybe I will be lemon pepper chicken. That stuff is awesome.