What it feels like @32 || My Father’s in the ER right now


Extemporaneous Thought

It was different seeing him again, after remarking (how many days ago was it) … five days maybe a week ago on how odd it was to see him around a baby. Now very much like that same baby my father enjoyed smiling with and cooing at, he was swimming in a sea of impressions that though heavy with all manner of implications about us and his condition, held no meaning for him beyond maybe their calling him back to this small room where we stood waiting for him.

More so than any other things, the constant beeping of his heart monitor, the hushed voices that hung in a dour air that covered him over the hospital blanket; it would be the smell of disinfectant cleaner that would be his siren call. That smell was in itself an entire language, the closest we get to having a lingua franca, as it quietly informs everyone within reach, independent of the language they speak, that this room or subsequent building is dedicated to the service of those convalescing. Knowing him and the pride he took in his career in medicine, he would be able to name compounds used in that cleaner when he awoke. He would have a story to tell about his residency, and the carbolic acid soap they used to use. That was the thing I was most waiting for, a talk about these chemical compounds hanging together in a plastic bottle of a brightly colored liquid waiting to be deployed into the epic battle between macro and micro organisms. That how we communicate each word of common everyday talk is only a symbol of something else, of a deeper emotion which couldn’t be spoken, lest the  banality of the world around us corrupted it.

Over the last 32 years we had been a very many things to each other friends, brothers, and up until we found ourselves here, interchangeably father and son. Now in the white-washed rooms, the memories of our time together fell like a torrent, and the constant shuffle of the nurse’s feet into and out of the room only added to the cacophony.

Now @32

The first time I saw my parents sick, it didn’t mean anything. It never thought that anything could happen to them. They just would slow down. Now at 32 I’ve been sick my self and it’s the firt time I ever had to imagine that there will be a day where my parents wont be there. That’s crushing!  You don’t really become a full adult until your parents leave you. There nothing to say. He is going to get better and will be out of the hospital in 2-3 days but I am unsettled and a bit fucked up.

18 thoughts on “What it feels like @32 || My Father’s in the ER right now

  1. I am glad to hear his prognosis is good, but I understand that feeling in the meantime. Wishing you and your family peace and strength during this time.

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    1. Thanks my man, He looks much much better, was starting to get back to his regular self. When I saw him today the anesthetics had fully wore off and he spent a lot of time resting. Im gonna get on him about taking better care of himself. It be nice to have him around for a bit longer. Thanks for the comment!

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  2. I don’t think any of us truly believe in death until it happens to someone we know and love. It’s a shock. But close calls are good because they put life into perspective. Love is precious and should never be taken for granted. Life is short and should never be wasted. These are the lessons I learned from the deaths of my parents, one last gift they gave me.

    I’m so glad your father is getting better, and that you have him in your future once more. -hugs-

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    1. Meeks,

      I so agree! How strange it is too, everyday we get reminded how fragile and limited life is and then its not until something happens that shakes us out of our normal reverie that it slowly starts to sink in. It was definitely a shock esp since my pops is an MD (retired). It was a real shock but im glad he is on the mend. Thanks a lot for your comment it cheered me up and made me feel better

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    1. Thanks Evie ! it is really scary when you see you parents getting older. Whatever beef or points of contention you had before seem to vanish at that moment. The Old Man’s doing well and in good spirits. I was able to make him laugh and feel a little better. When we left he was in good spirits. Hope you are well

      Dave

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  3. That’s been my entire reality for the last couple of years. My father’s been dead for almost 10 months, and I’m just now starting to cope with the idea that I don’t have to take care of him, or sit in the ER anymore.

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      1. Better some days, worse others. I’m not quite as okay as I’d like, but I’m working on it. ((Hugs))

        I think dealing with his declining health was almost worse than losing him, in some ways. I mean, once someone dies, you have a definitive resolution; no matter how much it hurts, you know that’s what’s going on. But sickness and treatment and all the other stuff is ongoing. There’s always one more thing to worry about, and the stress just gets you after a while. Take care of yourself, Dave. Make sure you pay attention to your own health right now.

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      2. I was listening to Hendrix’s all along the watch tower and your comment from the other day came up. It is always tough for me to read comments like yours because, underneath muscles and bad attitude I care and it tough to know that someone is feeling sad and such. I have been really stressed out and have bad chest pains I will get checked soon. The whole experience just reconfirms how fragile we all are ya know. Hope you are well 🙂

        MrM

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