Someone who has made a huge impact in your life recently
My father. There is always those possibilities that my life would have taken a different route if my father wasn't ill, but I'll leave those endless possibilites up to the scientists. I have God on my side, and nobody can try to disprove my fate. Ever since I can recollect my dad has been in and out of hospitals but for the past 3 years he's gotten worst. If you were to put a blind fold over my eyes and hand me a walking cane, I could walk through Memorial Hermann on Fannin without the sense of seeing. I know that hospital like the back of my hand. As a child I've spent countless nights there with my parents, while others are having fun at sleep overs with there friends, my weekends and weeknights have been spent watching free cable in my Dad's room, while your most likely at home, in your comftorable bed, in perfect health enjoying your favorite shows. It's simplicity as such that makes me value every single day a little more. He has a benign tumor on the right side of his brain, he's had it since he was 18 years old. But it never bothered him. And he never told my Mom about it till' he started losing his vision. And it's been a down hill ride ever since. He's had a total of 6 brain surgeries in attempt to remove it but due to the location of it, it's too risky. And one thing about tumors, is that the majority don't fucken go away. It's like a gray hair, you can keep yanking it out but eventually it I'll grow back out again. And every time they go back in and try to remove it they burn off "good" brain cells, so it's just complications after complications. He's a strong man, and over the years he's thought all of us to be patient, to love crazy, and to love the life your given. Ain't that a bitch huh. I won't lie, the first time he had surgery and I was at age to drink, that same night, I called my cousin and her boyfriend up and I went to a bar and got pist drunk. Judge me if you want but I just wanted to forget that he was laying in a hospital bed with 12 different ivy's planted on him in various places of his body, with a gash across his head the size of my palm. It didn't last. The next day I woke up with a fucken hangover and I realized he was still there. In that cold as room, fighting for his life. So that was the first and last time I ran to alcohol for any comfort. Now he's doing much better. He still forgets the days of the month, and we have to keep an eye on him constantly but he's at home where he belongs. So as long as God keeps him here with us, we can't complaint. I've got angry with God so much, and questioned and cursed at him in moments of despair but I know he can handle it. He's the only one who can and is still willing to forgive me. I know he has a plan for all of us. And as long as my pops is around I'm willing to accept whatever comes our way. Peace.