I was at work earlier when I got another "your dad has collapsed and is in the hospital" phone call. I left and drove down. He looks terrible. I didn't recognize him. Literally, I walked in and said, "Oops, sorry to bother you," because I thought I'd walked in on a stranger. That's how bad he's gotten in like 2 weeks. I spent an hour with him (it was 11pm when I got there) and then left because his spouse was waiting up for me to lock up before she went to bed. I asked for some Tylenol and cough medicine so I had a chance of sleep (recall I was prepared to work an all-night shift), and she said, "I hope you haven't killed your father by going around him with that. I have been yelling at all the nurses for going from room to room spreading germs." I'm sure they love that.
A little something in me snapped. But it snapped quietly. I didn't go near him, I didn't touch him, I didn't hug him, I haven't seen him for weeks. I have a damn cold. Many people do, yet she takes him out in public. Why bag on me? Things just aren't going well for me. Stress is getting not-tolerable. He specifically asked his oncologist if I should stay away until after respiratory season in the ER, and evidently his immune system isn't as jacked up as it was. Really...accuse me of trying to kill my dad?
So I'm seething in the guest room, trying to get sleepy so I can have an unexpected daytime day tomorrow. I hope I don't get fired for so many absences, but so far the bosses have been understanding. "You only have one dad," they've said. I guess if I do, I do. I couldn't have worked after that call. I couldn't have worked for the last week or so if anyone had bothered to tell me how sick he'd suddenly gotten. He is over 6 feet tall and now weighs 127 pounds, for God's sake.