EDIT – At 10:37 this evening my oldest sister in Denver called and told me that my dad had passed away.
I’m sitting here, alone in my apartment, after getting off the phone with my middle sister. Angela took the dogs with her when she returned to Northern Virginia which leaves me absolutely alone in North Carolina. I haven’t called Angela yet to talk to her because right now I’m too upset. So upset that as I type this it sometimes becomes really difficult to see the letters on screen through my tears.
Today is Wednesday, April 4th, 2007. My father is scheduled to go into surgery on Friday, April 6th. He’s supposed to go in for a heart bypass. They don’t know if he’ll make it. He’s on ‘slow dialysis’ and even that isn’t helping. They’ve put more catheters into him. He’s having trouble breathing.
Keep in mind that I’ve been getting all of this information relayed to me. That’s one of the problems with being the youngest – you’re most likely the last in the chain to know anything when something like this happens.
I’ve been told that his chances of survival are starting to dwindle. They say the dialysis doesn’t even seem to be helping. Without it, the odds get lower that he’ll make it to Friday. By chance should he make it to Friday they aren’t giving him very good odds to survive the surgery.
My sister keeps telling me that she’s preparing herself by rationalizing that his quality of life has been poor these past few years. Quality of life? I admit that physically he has been severely crippled from the incident a few years ago. But to say that it might be best for him to go because his quality of life has deteriorated seems like an insult to my dad. He was with my mom. It might seem obtuse to say it, but isn’t that enough?
My face hurts. The salt from my tears is getting into my pores and making it sting. I can’t stop thinking ‘I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO!’. My feelings are so conflicted. I don’t want him to die in some hospital in a city he’s not familiar with. He should be home, watching Filippino television off the satellite and getting ready for another season of baseball.
I’m having a hard time breathing. I can’t stop thinking about the state he’s in and whether or not he’s in pain. I can’t stop thinking about my mom. I can’t stop thinking. What’s worse is that I can’t stop crying.
I thought parents were supposed to be invincible. Please don’t leave us yet. Even though I told you that I love you this past weekend I just want to say it to you again before you go. At the very least I want to be there for you like you’ve always been there for me.
Instead I’m alone. In a place I don’t want to be. With people who don’t even want me.