Because life just can’t seem to stop fisting me enough lately, it thought it would take another stab yesterday.
As I sat in the rink, early in the morning, feeling shitty because I was the only mom that didn’t sparkle at 6am, my phone rang. As I walked outside to take the call, the cool morning air hit my face and instantly woke me. It was my mom and she was very upset.
My dad had had his physical early that morning, but something was wrong so the doctor admitted him into the hospital because she thought he may have a blockage in his arteries near his heart.
This is not the first time my dad has been in the hospital with heart problems. Three years ago, my dad had a minor heart attack and they ended up doing surgery and placing a stint in him to help the blood flow easier.
So we’ve been through this before. But it always hits my mom the hardest. And this time is no different than last time.
My parents are old school – they don’t understand the value of taking care of yourself. They eat unhealthy food because it’s easier and they don’t exercise, ever. Which is what led to these problems to begin with. My sister and I saw this coming years ago, but there’s nothing you can do to help people who don’t see that there’s a problem.
My dad was taken by ambulance to the closest city with a hospital that has the means to take care of him. So I had two hours to pack a bag for me and my kid before we drove my mom to the hospital, which is three hours away.
Needless to say, we didn’t make it home last night. Instead we got hotel rooms and we’re planning to go see my dad today.
Because this city is on the way to where we have to go to grampa’s funeral, we’ve decided to stay in the city until Sunday when we have to leave for the northern town where the funeral is being held.
After the funeral, we will make our way back through this city to see how my dad is doing. Hopefully everything goes well and we can make our way home eventually.
Because of everything that’s happening, my son will miss two days of school and one hockey practice. I will miss meetings and work for almost a week. My sister doesn’t even live in this country and can’t really help out. And my mom is still a mess.
So here I am, sitting in a hotel room, waiting for visiting hours at the hospital to see my dad before I have to leave on Sunday to attend grampa’s funeral.
Just when I thought my depression was getting the best of me again, my mom called. Like I told the intern at my doctor’s office last week, “I don’t have time to be depressed.”