My dad broke his ankle yesterday. And was taken to Pratt KS to have surgery. Compound fracture. Ankle. And I live 200 miles away. And Daddy told me NOT to come. And I want to be there.
Evidently, the horse he was riding yesterday is one who wont catch himself if he stumbles. He just relaxes and falls. Unfortunately, he fell and Dad's leg stayed under him. Fortunately, Daddy wasn't out in the "north 40", and wasn't alone. He was taken to Minneola first, and called Mom. They sent him on to Pratt. Fortunately, he won't lose his foot. Unfortunately, it will take 4-5 surgeries to fix all the broken bones. Fortunately, Steve was an hour away. Unfortunately, I'm 4 hours away.
Daddy is in good spirits. He's griping because he has new cattle to care for. He's griping because he's out of Skoal. He's griping because "they" ruined his boots. He's griping because he hurts. And he doesn't want me to come down.
Tough. I'm going.
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