Worry doll

My father has been in the hospital for two weeks now. He suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage while out running errands two Sundays ago. He’s at a very good hospital and getting the best of care, but if anything the last two weeks have shown us how much better it is to not to have to be in a hospital at all. He’s suffered from a couple of hospital-acquired conditions which the doctors are still trying to resolve. His brain seems to be stabilizing, though, which provides some slight encouragement. Also, from the first day there, he has been perpetually concerned with making sure the bills are paid on time.

I feel grateful not to be the one who is sick, but that is most of what I feel grateful for at the moment. To say that my father is not fond of hospitals is a gross understatement. I hate that he is stuck in one for the time being. I am grateful my mom can be by his bedside most of the time, and my brothers can as well.

Living a couple hundred miles away is hard. I was there for a couple of days at the beginning, but ten days, and a million reversals of fortune, have now passed. I will take the bus there tomorrow, and spend the night in the reclining chair by his bedside, so my mom can have a break. I wish I could do more. It is so difficult, feeling pulled between two poles, between my daughter & mother roles.  I know I’m not the first to go through this, and I won’t be the last. I’m just the next in line.

When I was there last, I was casting about for something that my dad might like to fidget with, because his hands have been restless. I found this wooden figurine on his desk, and took it to the hospital with me. He wasn’t quite able to grasp it easily at that point, so I brought it back home with me.  It was been my worry doll, my reminder, my focal point. Sometimes the kids come and put it in a funny pose.

I’ll stay by my dad’s bedside tomorrow, and come Tuesday morning, I’ll get to be the first to greet him on his birthday. I can’t stay long, but I will be there, to give him a kiss, to show the video the kids made for him… and to wish him the healthy, long life that seems so far from his grasp right now.

9 thoughts on “Vigil

  1. Oh, my goodness, so very sorry to hear, but wishing him and you and your whole family the strength and support to get through the days ahead. Can’t imagine there are shoulders stronger than yours. Keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers… xox

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So sorry, Debbie. I’m hoping the best. If it helps, my dad, a few years back, had a severe subdural hematoma with intraventricular bleeding. It was a long, slow recovery that doctors didn’t think he would pull out of. He is now golfing everyday and enjoying life, sharp as ever, full recovery. We just celebrated his 80th. I pray your dad has just as good a recovery. You, your family, are in my thoughts. Love, Franci

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It’s a strange thing, when we seem to become our parents’ caretakers and they have always been the ones taking care of us. Glad that you have siblings to help you. Sending love and strength.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I had a front row to seat to that happening with my parents and their parents, so I knew it would come eventually. It is sad and hard but there is some beauty in all of this also.


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