“If I could have a year or two to get my affairs in order then that would be good.”
“That’s what the dialysis is for dad, it’s to make you feel better so you can continue to do things.”
“I guess I have to accept that dialysis is part of my weekly routine.”
“Just think of it as going to therapy rather than fighting it dad.”
“I need to get my eyes done, I have cataract.”
“Is that hard to do?”
“No, it’s a simple procedure.”
“Your brain is still so sharp dad, might as well get your eyes fixed so you can continue to do what you want to do.”
“They should have never invented dialysis. It’s for the rich and lucky for those who have the money and can afford the treatment. “
“But what about those who don’t have the money to pay?”
“Dialysis can save your life but it can make you a pauper.”
“Good for you dad that because you’re a doctor everything is paid for.”
I feel very blessed today. It’s been a while since I had a good conversation with dad. This is the first time he’s openly expressed how he feels about his illness.
He’s a changed man. He’s soft spoken and sounds more accepting of his fate. I asked him if we should plan for our annual trip to San Francisco.
Sadly, he’s given up on traveling long distance. My last trip with him was in November 2012.
It’s ok. I accept and understand his decision. “There’s no place like home.” He says, knocking on the wooden tray, feeling safe and sound in the comfort of his favorite chair.
“Do you want to have lunch?”
“It’s ok dad, I’ll come back later with something for you to eat.”