Last Thursday I was sitting in a golf cart during the last day of the tournament in Arizona. My phone started to vibrate and I saw my mother was calling. Unfortunately I was unable to pick it up because I was on the course, so I let it go to voicemail. Three minutes later, I got an e-mail from my brother requesting that I call him as soon as possible. That sort of back-to-back contact was a sure sign that something was going on.

So I veered off the course and listened to my message. My mother has a distinct tone when something is wrong, and although she didn't say anything on the message to indicate there was a problem, I knew there was one. So I called her back.

And that's when she told me my father was in the hospital, and had been there since Tuesday. After being assured that he was fine, albeit in need of gall bladder surgery, I gave her what could probably be considered a bit of a hard time about keeping me in the dark for two days. She insisted that because we hadn't spoken during those two days, that she did not in fact lie to me. That's when the word semantics was thrown into the mix.

That all being said, everything seems to be fine. My dad had his surgery this morning and they were able to do it laparoscopically. Interesting, when I was in college, I worked at Ethicon for a summer on the team that marketed the products they use to do that surgery with lasers. I watched the procedure done a few times, so I have a good idea of what he went through today. I'm sure he'll be giving the doctors (and my mother) a hard time about getting out of the hospital by the end of the day. He has a tee time Thursday and I'm sure he hopes to be there.