1. Mum farted and stank the place out just as the male nurse arrived to give dad an enema (she denied it of course)
2. I was then treated to sound effects of the results of said enema for a good ten minutes.
3. Dad was given a painkiller, which he claimed disagreed with him before it even hit the back of his throat.
4. Nurse suggested he sleeps effects off. Mum then interrupted the rest of our conversation with keen observations (in Turkish) such as “I think he’s wearing a wig” while staring pointedly at the poor man’s head.
5. The surgeon who was supposed to be here at 10am may now not arrive until 1pm, which means I’m bloody stuck here until then listening to mum’s heavy breathing and dad’s whining.
6. Dad finally stopped whining and fell asleep then mum immediately woke him up by slapping his arm several times and shouting "are you asleep?" at the top of her voice. HELP!!!
My siblings found my text hilarious and I thought it was ok to make light of the situation; it was a pretty common type of surgery so we were certain he would make a full recovery.
We were wrong. And my heart has been breaking piece by tiny piece ever since.
His lucid days are becoming less and less frequent. There are still occasional flashes of the man he used to be yet that seems to hurt more. My father is a survivor who no longer wants to survive. He has thrown in the towel and reclines in his chair, day after day; unshaven and clad in a tracksuit waiting for death yet fearing it's arrival.
His pride never allowed him to be anything other than clean-shaven and impeccably dressed. He wore a shirt and tie even if he wasn’t leaving the house. And he was fearless, so bloody fearless. He drove through heavy gunfire to get us all to the safety of the ironically named ‘Happy Valley’ refugee camp. Then when I became very sick, he drove through it again to get me the medicine that would save my life.
My father intuitively named me after a flower that grows wildly in the mountains. And he understood that even the wildest of flowers need strong roots in order to survive.
He kept me alive by not letting go. And it hurts like hell that I can’t do the same for him.