My dad’s last two surgeries, months apart, brought about some interesting antics.  He always carried a lot of cash in his wallet–too much cash for his own good.  My sister Geri and I worried he’d be knocked in the head and robbed. And my mother worried the same thing, for decades. It was a terrible habit and I think it had something to do with all the many times he struggled for cash, so that when he had it, he wanted it with him. Upon admitting Daddy for a heart catheterization, the hospital made sure Geri and I had taken all his belongings: watch, ring, wallet, keys, change.  We wouldn’t…