Intensive care

I called home three times today. Nobody picked up.

I called my mum's mobile, but there was no connection.

Something was wrong.

Moments later, my mum called. Something was wrong.

My dad has been taken up in hospital after fainting. He has not been able to eat in the last ten days because he would keep on throwing up. The chemo therapy is really badly affecting his liver functions, and he does not feel well at all. His lungs are really infected with cancerous cells. And it is very painful. He is thin like never before.

The ambulance arrived within five minutes. They climbed the five storey flights of stairs and took him down in the stretcher. The doctors rushed him into intensive care. My mum was scared stiff and is still shivering. He threw up many times, and urinated on the bed. He thanked my mum many times, grateful that she was there by his side, and seemingly sorry for all that has happened in the past.

But the situation is stable now, and he is under surveillance. It was better than being at home, because the doctors and nurses are watching over him. Thank goodness for the health care, thank goodness that it is free.

"Please don't worry," my mum said, " You must know how to face this. Know how to deal with this. Please don't cry. Be strong."

Should I rush back home now? Pack my bags and leave as soon as possible? What of my work, my appointments, deadlines and meetings? What of all the things that need planning?
But what of my dad? What of his pain, his suffering, his fears?

Torn... torn...