Note: This post is part of Fatherhood Friday at Dad Blogs, where all the cool kids are hanging out. (Moms are welcome over there!) Welcome to my visitors from DB; thanks for stopping in!

My (and Julesie’s) Dad used to regale us with stories of his teenaged years. I always pictured him to be a little like Danny Zuko in character; you know, mischievous with a heart of gold.

One of my favorite stories really isn’t a story; rather, it’s a slice of a story whose image plays in my mind often when I think of my Dad.

As a teenager, he used to be the guy who rollerskated around the rink, pushing people down.

That’s it. That’s the slice of story. For some reason, I think that’s hysterical.

Fast forward about fifty years. Dad has had three surgeries in the past 2 1/2 years: first, hip replacement. Then, one knee. Yesterday, the other knee.

Since he had the hip replaced, I have another slice of a story that plays in my mind right alongside the one of my Dad pushing people down in a roller rink.

Before each surgery, Dad spent time doing the exercises that would be required of him post-surgery, so he would be used to them and ready to rock and roll when it was time. He’s got a great attitude about doing what he has to do to rehab his renovated joints in order to get back on his feet.

Each time we’ve talked to him post-surgery, we say (of course) “How are you doing, Dad?” He then tells us about how he’s already *totally impressed* the staff on his particular floor of the hospital with his physical abilities. He tells us how *in awe* they are at him and how amazing it is how he’s getting around already. Of course this is great news; it’s just that the way Dad talks about how stellar of a patient he is, he makes us laugh…not only because it’s true, but because in our family there is often no shortage of–ahem–great self esteem.

Last night I spoke with him and he said that he had already walked around the entire hospital floor twice and was told that most people have only done it once on the first day. (Go Big or Go Home!)

I’m hoping that, as he does his walking around the floor later today, there aren’t any other patients walking slower than he is, blocking his path. They might find themselves on the floor.

Go, Dad!