Turn

I braced for the day when Dad's health would take a final turn, as I jumped each time my phone rang. I was scared to lose my father, and I dreaded the day I'd have to share the same space with my stepfamily. Then one day, I received the call from my sister. Stepmother wanted us to come over right away, as Dad wasn't doing well, and was refusing to go to the hospital. He wasn't eating, drinking or going to the washroom, and she'd allowed it to go on for a few days. "We can't just let him lay there and die!" I said, in a complete panic.

Dad had been terrified to go, and I didn't blame him. But I was desperate to get him help no matter what it took, willing to say anything to get him in that ambulance. "I know you're scared, but all you likely need is a top-up of fluids to make you feel better, and then hopefully you can come back home again."

A few minutes later, my sister was calling the non-emergency number, requesting an ambulance without a siren, at Dad's request. "Ellie, you travel in the back of it with Dad, and we'll meet you at the hospital," she instructed. Suddenly, we heard a siren in the distance, and we knew it was for our father. I immediately burst into tears, still carrying trauma from when Mom had committed suicide, as our entire street filled up with emergency vehicles, their sirens joining together to create one of the most deafening sounds. I still found myself tearing up every time one whirred by, and now I was supposed to ride in the back of one while attempting to keep Dad calm. There'd been no empathy from my sister or stepmother as I ran into the washroom and locked the door, splashing cold water on my face. I couldn't have Dad see me crying, I had to rein in my sadness.

Fortunately Dad chatted away to the EMTs the entire ride there, as I looked out the window, trying not to cry. When we arrived, he was placed in the long-term wing of the hospital that mostly housed dementia patients who wandered aimlessly, shouted, and let out blood-curdling screams from their rooms. Within a couple of hours, Dad had gone from calm to frantic, as he started to exhibit some OCD symptoms, something I'd never seen before. "Where's my day timer, where's my pen, where's my cellphone, where's my charger?" he'd ask over and over, as I'd show him where each one was within the room. "Okay, good," he'd say, only to ask all over again, a few minutes later. At night, he was scared to close his eyes, so my sister and I had to take turns staying in the room with him overnight, as he continually woke up in a panic.

This went on for a couple of days while the doctors and nurses drew blood and conducted various tests to check on the progression of his cancer. "Girls, meet me in the lobby," my stepmother said on the phone, after my sister and I had gone home to shower and change. "The test results are in."

When we arrived, she ushered us to her vehicle instead. "The doctor said that your father is down to weeks, and we're going to have to look at hospices, as there's no way he can go back home." Her voice cracked, as my sister and I cried. Dad would be devastated. Her demeanor was cold, providing no comfort from the front seat, as she began dialing a number. My stepsister picked up. "Yes, they're saying weeks. Uh huh. Okay, bye," she said. Then she turned and said to my sister and me, "Your stepsister, M and her husband B will be here tomorrow," concluding our meeting. I wasn't looking forward to seeing either of them. As for M's husband, he'd always been an egotistical a*hole, and I had no doubt he'd gotten even worse with age.

The next day the entire stepfamily arrived, including my stepbrother J, who decided to surprise his mother, as if he was arriving for some sort of celebration. J had always been the quiet type, with the air of a successful chef who only cared about his career. As for M, she hadn't changed much, with her in full submission to B, who talked to her like a child. We all sat in the waiting room, when B suddenly got up and entered Dad's hospital room, closing the door behind him. Up to this point, it was my sister and me making all the decisions relating to Dad's care, but now that B had arrived, I could sense a power struggle, and my sister wasn't having it.

"B will be driving us around to look at hospices tomorrow," my stepmother said, not leaving it up for discussion. Neither of us could imagine him being with us during one of the most difficult decisions of our life, as he attempted to boss us around and make the final decision due to him being a man.

"We don't want him there," my sister said, when she had a chance to get my stepmother alone.

To which my stepmother snapped, "Then fine, I'm not going either. You two can go on your own!" Then she looked at me and said, "And you're no better, Ellie. You sit there in silence, but I know you're behind this too!"

She wasn't wrong, I had wanted a peaceful day just as much as my sister while we toured hospices, and my stepmother not coming had secretly been a blessing. We were already a fractured family, we'd been that way for years, so I didn't care that pieces were now breaking off, as it was clear that my sister and I were the ones that truly loved Dad. The other three had just used him all these years, and their lack of emotion at the hospital had only confirmed this.

"Take care of yourself," my stepbrother said, putting his hand on Dad's shoulder, as if Dad was in the hospital for a flu and not stage 4 cancer. Those were his last words to his stepfather of 15 years, as he left the hospital and flew back home later that night.

They may have prevented me from getting close to my father for over a decade, but that was about to change, whether they liked it or not. It was my turn to take care of Dad, and I would do everything in my power to ensure he was surrounded by love, the real kind.

Back to Entry 1: LOVE