Sunday, October 26, 2008

Dad

Although it was exactly 6 months ago, I remember the moment as if it were yesterday. I was driving home from Joe's, having just entered I-95 when my phone rang. It was Mom. I thought she was calling me to laugh again about how silly her day out with Dad was. Instead she was calling me to tell me that he was sick, very sick indeed. With the adrenaline pumping I did what I was taught to do, asking the appropriate questions. His chest pains and the fact that he had an unusual amount of physical activity told me this could be a heart attack. I gave Mom some quick instructions and told her to call 911 immediately.
I should've been there, I've feared this day since I was a little girl. The day the life I'd fight to save, would the one who gave me life. But I wasn't there... instead I was 1300 miles away.

When Mom arrived at the hospital and they ruled out any immediate life threatening problems, she called me so I could breathe a breath of relief. I thought he'd be ok and told her to call me later when he got admitted. The next morning the whole family went to visit, all except me. I'd planned on returning in 2 days and honestly thought he'd make it, but he didn't. Everyone got to say goodbye, everyone except me. If I'd got in the car right away and returned to NY I could've seen what was going on, I could've advocated for him. At the very least I could've said goodbye.

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