Wednesday, January 16, 2013

My Fathaaa

My father is still hospitalized but he is doing much better.
The doctors told my mother they can not operate him anymore because his body is to weak and the probabilities of him making him are slim to nada.
The only other option to reduce his brain tumor is radiation.
And even though radiation will get the job done, it's also harmful to the "good" brain cells.
But it's not a choice now is it?
It's more of a prerequisite to keep him alive.
He's been in the hospital for two weeks, almost.
The first Sunday he was there he was very irrational when he woke up.
He accused the nurse of killing his chickens and me of not doing anything about it.
To many people this might sound a little sad.
But we rather hear his nonsense rather than not hearing him speak at all.
It's one of those situations that you take and appreciate, even if it isn't something prosperous.
My mother had went home to shower and I stayed there to watch over him.
His dinner rolled in, literally.
I sat him up to feed him.
And you never conclude or preface the day YOU might be the one feeding one of your parents.
It's not an every day thought.
But I fed him his grilled chicken and white rice.
I cut the chicken in the smallest pieces possible.
Added a little salt.
And just watched him devour it away.
I love you Papi.

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