Wearing two hats is increasingly difficult for me. Doctor and Daughter. The boundaries at once crisp and fuzzy create an experience that is wildly new and terrifying. He is an old man with infirmities that creep relentlessly. I try to translate his broken, whispered words but what dictionary do I use? Doctor or daughter? Daughter usually wins out except when I'm feeling insecure and scared. To succumb to the temptation of retreat into an arena of experience and dispassionate thinking, the pull at my sleeve is ever seductive.
He is dying.
People look to me for guidance and answers so I pull out the Doctor hat. I toss it aside when the garble that comes from my mouth makes me cringe.
What use calling his doctor? He can't tell me anything I haven't told others or myself again and again.
He is dying.
Unable to tell me what my heart longs to have: his wishes. He cannot articulate his wishes beyond an abstract drawing, open to interpretation to those in the museum of thought.
His best times are before mid day. I reluctantly venture into this terrain on this gorgeous, sunny fall day. I suspect he knows that the leaves are crisp and falling, the trunk and branches remaining, ready to face the winter.
He is dying.
Oh, my heart. Oh, yours. Best in strength to you.
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you. I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteWhat a difficult time. It has occurred to me that my daughter, the doctor, may have to deal with this someday. It is the last thing I would want for her. Sometimes we don't have a choice. I am holding you and your family in my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteA beautifully written post.
ReplyDeleteThis was eloquently written-- very sad but powerful. I am continually praying for Mono
ReplyDeleteI second Mandy in that this is a beautiful post - beautiful and eloquent. I will keep you and your family in my thoughts, and hope that you'll be able to enjoy a day in bed, thinking, soon.
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