My father died a few months ago. Then, as he is wont to do, he resurrected himself later the same day. The nursing home that disseminated bad news before they disseminated good news had played grim reaper to the wrong man. There are worse, if not weirder, situations than calling off a funeral. "I'm sorry, sir, he's no longer deceased" is a real conversation killer. Read my back-of-the-mag piece @ the American Spectator on the indestructibility of fathers.
Great real life story. Glad to hear he’s still around. I know what you mean. Before they found out he had irreparable heart damage, my Dad had been the picture of health for some time. In fact, when he went into the hospital feeling peeked, the interviewing nurse asked him when the last time it was that he saw a doctor. My Dad replied that he was in a hospital (field that is) in 1944 in the Philippines. So with a history of never being sick, I thought that once they started treating him with drugs and he changed his dietary and drinking ways, he would live for another ten indestructible years. We got less than one.
My Dad always had a big "S" on his chest as far as I was concerned. Then a heart attack in his 40's caused him to give up the cigs, but not the brews. Can't give up all the vices after all. I still remember the day he called me when he was 61 and told me he had cancer; I reacted as if he had caught a cold. That cold got him within 6 months. Not too dissimilar from asdf's story.