I
don’t know how my dad does it. Honestly.
He;s undergoing treatment, has five kids, and continuously eats dinner as I am getting ready for bed only to see him reading the morning paper when I wake up, ready to take on the day. Today I woke
up at 5:30 AM to prepare for what we knew would be an early trip to the hospital - and there he was when I came downstairs. Still in bed yet dressed and awake. I rubbed the remaining sleep out of my eyes and limped to the kitchen to boil some water.
Spent the day at the hospital, eating the cafeteria lunch, playing in the small but enjoyable yard with the kids, talking with nurses and doctors. The hospital rules don’t allow for kids in to the ward where my father's room is held, so I tag teamed with Mathi watching the
kids while the other walked upstairs and kept him company.
I joked recently to a good friend that my dad is the only one who encourages my love for heavy conversation topics early in the morning. I joked, but its absolutely true. He's never dismissed a direction of conversation, nor abruptly ended a line of dialect with a "huh, I guess so." He always has something to add or question.
I joked recently to a good friend that my dad is the only one who encourages my love for heavy conversation topics early in the morning. I joked, but its absolutely true. He's never dismissed a direction of conversation, nor abruptly ended a line of dialect with a "huh, I guess so." He always has something to add or question.
Gabs, George and mama Celia eventually came to join us. Gabi and I played with the idea of
visiting Quito, the capital city for the night in spite of the rain that began to show up against the second floor hospital window. However if you've ever been to Quito, you are shaking your head; you know that it always rains. Still, we decided against
it.
Sticking around, I'm glad we did. An old friend of Dad’s Patricia and her daughter Francis came to visit. I haven't seen them in years. Its never been awkward for me to sum up my life story, I've come to live a great one. However, translating the little jokes and irony in the story into Spanish proved something that needs refining. Still, that I live in Japan always throws them off, and we talked a good while about that.
From the nine of us in the house who come and see my father every day he is admitted for treatment, to the friends he has here in town, the nurses tell me my father is a popular man. This is not new news. Come jump back into my childhood memory of walking down the Mission blocks, never making the full stretch from traffic light to traffic light without stopping and spending a few minutes talking with a friend, or colleague, or band mate that we just happened to run into. Sitting down at cafes was just the same, though people would instead come up to us.
Family and friends be what we are, there are no visitors allowed past 8:00 PM. Dad spends tonight in the hospital, all Gabi and I can do is return home only to come back tomorrow morning to bring smiles, stories of the kids and, morning coffee with a splash of milk.
Sticking around, I'm glad we did. An old friend of Dad’s Patricia and her daughter Francis came to visit. I haven't seen them in years. Its never been awkward for me to sum up my life story, I've come to live a great one. However, translating the little jokes and irony in the story into Spanish proved something that needs refining. Still, that I live in Japan always throws them off, and we talked a good while about that.
From the nine of us in the house who come and see my father every day he is admitted for treatment, to the friends he has here in town, the nurses tell me my father is a popular man. This is not new news. Come jump back into my childhood memory of walking down the Mission blocks, never making the full stretch from traffic light to traffic light without stopping and spending a few minutes talking with a friend, or colleague, or band mate that we just happened to run into. Sitting down at cafes was just the same, though people would instead come up to us.
Family and friends be what we are, there are no visitors allowed past 8:00 PM. Dad spends tonight in the hospital, all Gabi and I can do is return home only to come back tomorrow morning to bring smiles, stories of the kids and, morning coffee with a splash of milk.
The hospital play yard. Two sets is swings, a field of grass to run around on, and a few structures for the children to climb, chase, and hide within.
There's also a large Palm tree in the play yard, providing shade for everyone in the hot sun. Around noon, if you don't have a sun hat or find yourself under a tree, you're burning up. We are at the equator after all, the closest to the Sun as one can get!
Emilie, coming to wake me up from a perfectly good mid day twilight.
Maybe it's just the asian diet that I've come to know intimately for the last two years, but even the cafeteria food here amazes me. I think that, with pictures like these, in a month when I am back in my screen door apartment cooking noodles, I'll look back at all the food photos and start to cry.
And so ends another day at the hospital. There shouldn't be much more to this treatment course, so we're talking of taking a short trip out somewhere to explore new towns and new views, and of course new food.
Much love,
-A
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