Like the time he told me he had the VW Golf I was looking to buy checked over by a mechanic. First day I drove it, the thing broke down. As it did consistently throughout my ownership. Turns out it was a marine mechanic that gave it the once over.
Or the time I was ten and he took me to an oval full of flowering clover while I had hay fever and subsequently yelled at me for rubbing my eyes red raw.
Or the time when he took my childhood friend Pippin to the vet. I was 18 and I said don't get him put down, whatever you do because I wanted to say goodbye...you can guess what happened there.
Or the time he spelt my name wrong. As in, replaced the "I" with and "E". K A R E N.
But sitting in that ward for nearly two weeks gave me a lot of time to think and a lot of time to be thankful. And a lot of time to be grateful to the Drs and nurses at LKH, because without a doubt they pretty much saved my dads life.
They also helped me feel like I was part of an Austrian Grey's Anatomy. I'll remember forever the good looking Drs and nurses, the pretty flowers in the place I'd like to sit to get away, the guy begging at the stairs who I'd share my lunch with, everyone saying hello to me and so many people stopping to talk. I'll also remember the hundreds of people smoking! I've never seen so many people smoke at a hospital!
Most of all, I'll remember the men on level 5, room 13. They were always so welcoming, chatty and generally happy to see me. I just ended up being part of the gang during what was a traumatic time for most of them. I got to see all sorts of things I shouldn't, answered lots of questions about Australia, and watched them encourage my dad (and each other) every single day. Wasn't exactly the holiday I expected, but since there has been a bit of time between then and now, I can appreciate it as a memorable experience all the same.