My father had a brain hemorrhage last Monday night, and it happened while he was alone. Totally alone in a huge empty house. It happened, and I had no way of knowing it until I tried calling him and he didn’t pick up the phone. I ran and took a cab and when I got there, the blue lights of the cops’ cars illuminated the street. The front door of the house was wide open and somebody had turned all the lights of my house on. And I heard voices upstairs. I ran up, I jumped 2 steps each time and got to his room, finding him on the floor, still awake but totally out of it. He tried to talk, but his mouth was twisted and the left side of his body paralysed.
It happened really fast, but my dad managed to stay awake until we got to the Emergency room. The doctor treated him, asked questions, and he complained about pain. He couldn’t speak. He was out of it. And I was crying. I was angry, but I was scared. Really scared.
Somehow, he still remained the polite individual I will always remember whenever I think of him in the future. He referred to the doctor as “miss” (señorita, por favor). And asked me why was I there. He shouted directions “call this man”, “not this hospital”, “my head hurts”, “I want to sleep”.
Now 5 days have passed and he’s in the hospital, sedated, his brain has stopped hemorrhaging. But I’m still scared.
I can only see him for half an hour in the morning and another half in the afternoon. That’s not nearly enough -I don’t care if he’s sedated. I hold his hand. And I talk to him. In my imagination, he’s somewhere far away, but he still can hear me. He’s having weird dreams (he always has weird dreams), and when he wakes up, he will tell me everything about them. When he wakes up, he will remember what I told him, will promise to change, to take care of himself. He will be ok. His hand may be paralyzed. Or maybe his whole arm, but I just want him to wake up.
I know what could go wrong. But I also know what could go right. Perfectly right.
Waiting is the worst.
I never thought I’d be sharing this information on here, but writing seems to help me, and, afterall, I’m rambling. This blog is for ramblings. My ramblings.
This week I missed all my classes -but I simply couldn’t concentrate. Wherever I’m in, I have the image of my dad stuck in my head. I can’t focus. But I need to remember what he wanted the most: he wanted me to have a future and his whole life has consisted on providing it to me. I need to keep going.
But please, please, please, let my dad be ok.
I hate waiting.