I keep forgetting that as I walk through this life, I'm not the only one who's growing old. Today, my dad was rushed to the emergency room after experiencing chest heaviness, palpitation, dizziness, and loss of consciousness. Had it been another patient, it would have been easy to just commit to a diagnosis of syncope. But I guess things are different when you're at the other end of things--when you're the clueless watcher; when you're the relative who has an inkling but does not know what's really happening; when your own parent is the patient.
I haven't been home for quite some time, and I can't help but feel guilty that I wasn't there to take care of my parents more than I really want to. It's a heartbreaking fact that doctors care so much about other people that sometimes they lose time to take care of themselves and their loved ones. I hope that my being here, tending to my dad's needs, I can show him the care that I have failed to provide him because of what I do.
I honestly hoped you would care more.
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