Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Parents aren't supposed to be ill.

Surely there is some law which states that a child is never allowed to see his parent in diabolical pain, and should not have to stand there watching helplessly.

Today was a rosy day. The rain had subdued and the sun was beaming down on us all. The dark clouds were lurking somewhere, but not near enough to put a damper on us all. Po and myself enquired about my Dad's jacket and how he was looking like my Uncle. My mum, sharp as ever, realised that we were trying to make my Dad have a complex about that particular jacket so that he won't ever wear it again! (Trust me - it's not "my dad's" jacket). Shooing us away, she dismissed our claims and praised the jacket as we went to rethink our plans. (Does someone accidentally "burn it", or does it suddenly disappear one day?)

The conspiracy theories continued, but my Dad wasn't laughing with us. This we sensed. Something was up. Straight away our backs straightened slightly and we assumed the guarded position. Tablets were swallowed - too many in my opinion - but who am I to know of such things. After a lie down things seemed to be okay, but then my dad decided to go upstairs to have a proper lie down.

That's illegal in my books. He's not supposed to go upstairs for a lie down, but stay downstairs. That's another rule which he forgot about. So he went upstairs and possibly had more tablets (antibiotics and pain killers), whilst we didn't think much of it at the time. But somehow I found myself drawn to his room and kept on bugging him. Making sure he was okay. He was suffering from severe abdominal pains but he was enduring it all. The doctor was phoned but he said.... nothing I suppose and pops continued drinking the water. (We were guessing it was a kidney infection, gallstones or kidney stones). We thought that water might help. It helped until he vomited some, but he felt better after doing so which was a relief.

I couldn't help myself but I had to keep on bugging my dad to see if he was okay. He couldn't sleep due to the pain, and I offered to read him a story! Straight away he declined (for my voice can be quite irritating on the best of days!) but then I proposed talking about maths. My theory was that he might be quite horrified at what kind of maths I was studying which might make him forget the pain, and hence make him fall asleep. He didn't think so and my mum shooed me away (again!)

The pain grew worse. The health centre was rang again and my Dad asked us to go and collect something from the doctor's. We came back and an ambulance was driving up our road. Panic overcome us as the ambulance took our parking spot and a **** driver overtook us by driving onto the pavement. We lost ourselves for a moment but then safely parked before rushing home.

I hate being here and not knowing anything. I hate feeling like a useless git but I understand that I must stay calm.

My dad. He's a cool dude. This could be a trivial problem (which I hope it is), but Dads aren't meant to be driven to the hospital in ambulances. They're meant to drive us annoying gits there and assure us that there's nothing to worry about.

The funny thing is that when anyone like my parents or teachers are ill/in pain and go to the hospital, I can't take it. PS was in pain due to his back and I found that hard to take! It's namely due to the fact that there's nothing I can do to relieve the pain and make the person feel better.

I'm going to be a strong bean though and hope for the best. It's scary though. Seeing my Dad like that. I'm definitely staying away from googling anything until my mum calls us with news.

Although I'm only twenty - I feel my Dad's responsibilities now. I'm not saying that I've got to assume his role, for no one can do that, but I've got to make sure nuno and co. remain calm and things keep ticking at home. He's only been gone for a few hours and already it feels weird. I hope he's back by tonight though, for I hate hospitals.

Parents have unbelievable amounts of patience. But they should be banned from sitting in ambulances. Perhaps we should design special vans which don't look like ambulances but are. I don't want to go to university tomorrow any more. That seems insignificant.

Ah there goes the phone. It's not my mum I know - just darn family who are enquiring about my dad. (My mum took my mobile for everything was a rush and I actually wanted to go as well, but they could only take one person).

When I was young and my Dad suffered from back aches, I used to hope that his pain could be transferred to me "just like that" so he would get better. We used to play board games on the floor with him when it got really bad, and he always lost interest when he was losing so I used to team up with him. I know that my childish aspirations to carry my dad's pain were silly, but they resurface at such occasions, even though I know that I would probably never be able to endure what he has. We are only ever given what we can handle. I can't understand why, but life seems to have come to a standstill. I should have given my mum a maths book to read to my dad...

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