Returning Home with a Cold

I hate being sick.

When I arrived here, I had a sore throat. I had thought i was because of a lack of water or fluids while in transit. It was, however, the beginnings of my first cold in a year. It’s more annoying than debilitating, but I still wish I didn’t have it.

I partially blame Mom, Cathy, and Dad — their cigarette smoke has done a number on my immune system, and probably opened me up to a cold I probably wouldn’t have otherwise caught.

But I do have to keep perspective — it’s nothing like what Dad’s going through.

Dad’s doing well, all things considered. He’s a little slower than usual, but it’s probably due to the morphine we’ve got him on. His wits are still about him, but admittedly he still doesn’t realize he’s at home, despite another trip into the living room. They’ll try again tomorrow to convince him of his whereabouts.

I however will not be here. I’m going back to Calgary. Because Dad’s condition is much better than i think we could have hoped, I’m going to return to my daily grind, until events warrant. That could be days, it could be months. Frankly, we don’t know. He has good days, he has not so good days. It’s all pretty hard to tell.

I hate to leave this in Mom and Cathy’s hands. It’s a huge burden. We should share a a family. But what do you do? I have a job I can’t neglect ad a house that I’ll soon have to pay for. I love my family and would be here every second, but there are just some things I cannot do.

Although I cannot compare myself directly to Dad, I hate the feeling of helplessness — knowing that there is nothing you can do, and all there is to do is wait.

Cathy has been the star through all this. I’ll have to make a point to reward her for all her sacrifices and for all the pain that she’s borne for the rest of us. If anything, it will make her an excellent manager, and an unbelievable mother.

But for now, we’ll just keep on living, helping out where we can, supporting each other (and Dad), and by the family we are.