Sad to see how far the bored has fallen..

In summer of 1970, dad was a healthy 21 year old with two working legs. Working for the Forest Service somewhere out on the Olympic Peninsula, cutting samples in the era of Lawn Darts as child toys involved grown men climbing trees. Sadly, gravity is a bitch, and when you fall 44 feet it does suboptimal things to your spine. He ended up at UW Medical Center and during my formative years in the late 70's/early 80's this was his favorite story to tell. Actually, no, it was probably just my favorite to ask him to tell again. After surgery, X-rays of that area would look like a spaghetti of wires holding everything together. And, more importantly, he would never walk again.

I probably developed my reticence towards developing any serious drug habits after listening to him talk about how all the crazy levels of morphine they gave him made him feel. Rehabilitation from this kind of injury was described to me as horrific, being strapped in a position for a long time, unable to move, but needing to be rotated to reduce pressure, avoid bed sores, numbers, facts, math, etc. You hoped you got a kind nurse who rotated you slowly. Sometimes you didn't. I hope and assume technology has improved in the last 50 years. But before long you start to get a bit better, and need stuff to keep busy in the years before Internet Porn.

Enter Husky Football. Now, 1970 may not have been a great year, but realize that the time I'm being repeatedly told all this is 1979-1984. Primo Don James time frame, 3 Rose Bowls and a dumbass stuck-in-the-mud Sooner Schooner and Switzer red Crimson in the face. We both came to love watching those games, and once when a receiver ran out of bounds he told me that a decade earlier a WR had almost run into him at the same spot. "WHAT?? What do you mean?!?"

...they had wheeled his fucking hospital bed into the stadium to watch the games. I was blown away. (I think I was briefly horrified that he was naked before being reassured that he had blankets covering him; things you care about when you're 5.) Now, when you're single digits in years, watching the badass team in purple physically impose their will on people, listening to your Dad talk about meeting Don James and Jim Lambright, hearing the siren, smelling real grass, roaring crowd...who do you think you root for?? Is there really a choice? He went to a few games this way and around this time of these stories is when we started attending games with him too.

I guess the people in beds in the stadium thing was really a thing. Last time I told this, @RaceBannon actually remembered this happening with a fairly famous UW athlete who was injured.
Later that winter, my dad had transitioned (lulz) to a wheelchair. My grandmother took him to UW basketball games, and when leaving to return to the hospital was surprised once to find a few inches of snow had fallen during the game. Cue a decade of "uphill in the snow both ways" jokes. Dad never attended UW for a day, but tell me he wasn't a Husky and I'll laugh in your face. He also lived in that wheelchair for a little shy of half a century.

Two dads? Parents were divorcing by the time these stories began, and eventually mom explained what we suspected, that paraplegic men in the 1970's couldn't father children. Also, that my brother and I were almost certainly half brothers. They used donors. And there weren't a lot of well developed sperm banks back then, so others stepped in. I understand there was actually many many men who returned from Vietnam with terrible injuries that made them unable to have children which ramped up efforts to help people like my parents. Anyway, my parents ended up back at UW Medical Center, and mom's recollection from around 15 years after the fact was that they used medical interns. The only thing docs matched was the race and height of the father. (LOL, his standing height, not sitting, you assholes!) That may have been right, or slightly off, whatever. I figured I'd never know, and they surely never suspected people would be able to figure things out.

But, through the miracle of technology my little brother has found out that this is mostly right. His bio-father was a PhD student at UW in the late 70's. Still alive. I guess it was a fairly common thing, and this guy in particular got around. With one of the 23-and-Me-type services, my brother has found that he actually has like 10 or more half siblings, with more appearing occasionally as people get tested to find out about their roots. He even met several of them earlier this year.
With me, apparently it took about 6 times before someone with decent swimmers was used. So yes, if I thought anyone here was 70 and could get a PhD, I'd call you my other dad, LOL.
I haven't yet actually used the services to figure out if I have half siblings too. Don't know if I will. I'd never have done it if Dad was still alive.

...yeah, he died. Cancer; isn't it always? I figured once that he spent something like 8 years of his life in a hospital bed. Absurd, no? You get infections from sitting and it quickly becomes life threatening. Long recovery, more ass plastic surgery than a Rio model, rinse, repeat. Poor circulation means they might cut off one of those legs you don't use anymore. And all kinds of other demeaning, loss of dignity bullshit I won't want to get into; point is that man put up with a lot for a long time. Without complaint. Good portion of it at UW hospitals.

My wife had just died after a very long and horrific battle of her own. Basically starved to death within reach of the fridge; I wouldn't wish those images on anyone. I expected another long awful battle but actually he told me on Halloween and was gone by Christmas. I was surprised, but eventually realized it was a sign of strength instead of weakness. He was tired and ready, and decided to go before he became a burden. Small blessing, at least. And, thankfully he missed seeing ATBSJBS throw it to Bama by about a week.

Anyway, that's how Husky Nation is in my blood.
(and, now that I think about it, was in my mom. Fuck. Childhood memories ruined)

cheers--

Dad was a HUGE Lambright fan since meeting him actually did date to that '70 fall. Eh...nobody's perfect. The man was a superb DC for us and I thank him for his service.
Long term hospital patients often form bonds with one another, and will have reunions thereafter. During these he met James and a lot of other famous Huskies. I ate that shit up as a kid.

NoWarningJustDawg said:

In summer of 1970, dad was a healthy 21 year old with two working legs. Working for the Forest Service somewhere out on the Olympic Peninsula, cutting samples in the era of Lawn Darts as child toys involved grown men climbing trees. Sadly, gravity is a bitch, and when you fall 44 feet it does suboptimal things to your spine. He ended up at UW Medical Center and during my formative years in the late 70's/early 80's this was his favorite story to tell. Actually, no, it was probably just my favorite to ask him to tell again. After surgery, X-rays of that area would look like a spaghetti of wires holding everything together. And, more importantly, he would never walk again.

I probably developed my reticence towards developing any serious drug habits after listening to him talk about how all the crazy levels of morphine they gave him made him feel. Rehabilitation from this kind of injury was described to me as horrific, being strapped in a position for a long time, unable to move, but needing to be rotated to reduce pressure, avoid bed sores, numbers, facts, math, etc. You hoped you got a kind nurse who rotated you slowly. Sometimes you didn't. I hope and assume technology has improved in the last 50 years. But before long you start to get a bit better, and need stuff to keep busy in the years before Internet Porn.

Enter Husky Football. Now, 1970 may not have been a great year, but realize that the time I'm being repeatedly told all this is 1979-1984. Primo Don James time frame, 3 Rose Bowls and a dumbass stuck-in-the-mud Sooner Schooner and Switzer red Crimson in the face. We both came to love watching those games, and once when a receiver ran out of bounds he told me that a decade earlier a WR had almost run into him at the same spot. "WHAT?? What do you mean?!?"

...they had wheeled his fucking hospital bed into the stadium to watch the games. I was blown away. (I think I was briefly horrified that he was naked before being reassured that he had blankets covering him; things you care about when you're 5.) Now, when you're single digits in years, watching the badass team in purple physically impose their will on people, listening to your Dad talk about meeting Don James and Jim Lambright, hearing the siren, smelling real grass, roaring crowd...who do you think you root for?? Is there really a choice? He went to a few games this way and around this time of these stories is when we started attending games with him too.

I guess the people in beds in the stadium thing was really a thing. Last time I told this, @RaceBannon actually remembered this happening with a fairly famous UW athlete who was injured.
Later that winter, my dad had transitioned (lulz) to a wheelchair. My grandmother took him to UW basketball games, and when leaving to return to the hospital was surprised once to find a few inches of snow had fallen during the game. Cue a decade of "uphill in the snow both ways" jokes. Dad never attended UW for a day, but tell me he wasn't a Husky and I'll laugh in your face. He also lived in that wheelchair for a little shy of half a century.

Two dads? Parents were divorcing by the time these stories began, and eventually mom explained what we suspected, that paraplegic men in the 1970's couldn't father children. Also, that my brother and I were almost certainly half brothers. They used donors. And there weren't a lot of well developed sperm banks back then, so others stepped in. I understand there was actually many many men who returned from Vietnam with terrible injuries that made them unable to have children which ramped up efforts to help people like my parents. Anyway, my parents ended up back at UW Medical Center, and mom's recollection from around 15 years after the fact was that they used medical interns. The only thing docs matched was the race and height of the father. (LOL, his standing height, not sitting, you assholes!) That may have been right, or slightly off, whatever. I figured I'd never know, and they surely never suspected people would be able to figure things out.

But, through the miracle of technology my little brother has found out that this is mostly right. His bio-father was a PhD student at UW in the late 70's. Still alive. I guess it was a fairly common thing, and this guy in particular got around. With one of the 23-and-Me-type services, my brother has found that he actually has like 10 or more half siblings, with more appearing occasionally as people get tested to find out about their roots. He even met several of them earlier this year.
With me, apparently it took about 6 times before someone with decent swimmers was used. So yes, if I thought anyone here was 70 and could get a PhD, I'd call you my other dad, LOL.
I haven't yet actually used the services to figure out if I have half siblings too. Don't know if I will. I'd never have done it if Dad was still alive.

...yeah, he died. Cancer; isn't it always? I figured once that he spent something like 8 years of his life in a hospital bed. Absurd, no? You get infections from sitting and it quickly becomes life threatening. Long recovery, more ass plastic surgery than a Rio model, rinse, repeat. Poor circulation means they might cut off one of those legs you don't use anymore. And all kinds of other demeaning, loss of dignity bullshit I won't want to get into; point is that man put up with a lot for a long time. Without complaint. Good portion of it at UW hospitals.

My wife had just died after a very long and horrific battle of her own. Basically starved to death within reach of the fridge; I wouldn't wish those images on anyone. I expected another long awful battle but actually he told me on Halloween and was gone by Christmas. I was surprised, but eventually realized it was a sign of strength instead of weakness. He was tired and ready, and decided to go before he became a burden. Small blessing, at least. And, thankfully he missed seeing ATBSJBS throw it to Bama by about a week.

Anyway, that's how Husky Nation is in my blood.
(and, now that I think about it, was in my mom. Fuck. Childhood memories ruined)

cheers--

I never thought a story on HH would make me tear up, but here we are.

Your dad sounds like a badass. While some of our softer fans leave at halftime for more tailgating, your dad took his fucking hospital bed to the game. The marks of a legend.

Also sorry to hear about your wife, you've endured more than most of us here ever will, and I respect the hell out of you for it. Many @guntlove blessings to you.