Chapter 9
9
ZORA
M y hands won’t stop shaking and my eyes burn from the unending tears and lack of sleep. I paced the waiting room, wondering when the doctor would give me word on my father’s condition.
When he finally entered the room to let me know my father was still alive, I nearly collapsed from relief. But that relief was short lived when I realized how dire my father’s health situation had been.
Unfortunately, the cancer was only one of his many issues.
The reason for his collapse was a Transient Ischemic Attack, more commonly known as a mini stroke. His blood pressure had been so high it was surprising he didn’t have an actual stroke. The doctors were able to get his blood pressure under control and they wanted to monitor him overnight.
The doctor also noted my father’s cancer diagnosis. My heart had plummeted to my feet upon hearing the big C word. I’d already lost my mom to that despicable disease; I don’t know how I’d handle losing my dad.
There had been so many doctor’s bills, I couldn’t determine the type of treatment he’d been receiving until now. Part of me was angry at him for being stoic to the point where he’d keep something like this to himself. But the other half of me was sad for the same reason. The stress he must have been under with his illness and the financial burden it and my brother had caused.
I refused to leave his side as soon as they allowed me in the room. Seeing my once strong father, connected to the oxygen and IV broke my heart. He appeared so much smaller than I remember him being. As a kid my dad was larger than life to me. And I was suddenly faced with his mortality.
I didn’t sleep a wink. My head hurt from crying so much from wondering how we would get out of this awful situation.
“Don’t cry baby girl,” my dad’s weak voice breaks through the eerie silence of the sterile white room.
“Dad!” I immediately sit up in my chair.
His eyes are at half-mast and a ghost of a smile curves his lips. I don’t remember so many lines in his face and so many gray hairs. When did my father become old?
He smacks his lips together. “Thirsty,” he whispers.
I get up to fill his waterglass with the pitcher on the table. I then gently lift his head and place the glass against his mouth.
He takes a few small sips at a time until the glass is half empty. “Ahh. Thanks. My throat feels much better.”
“I was so worried about you.”
“I’m going to be okay. When I get out of this hospital, I’m going to make you a pot of my famous gumbo. I know how much you love it.”
“Dad, the only thing you’re going to do when you get out of here is rest.”
I really want to bring up all the documents I’d gone through earlier but now wasn’t the time.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, baby girl.”
“It’s okay, I’m glad I came home because I don’t know what would have happened if no one was around when you—” I break off with a sob.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve still got some years in me yet.” He attempts what seems to be a chuckle, but he only manages to sneeze a bit.
“Dad, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby girl. But you don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep. You need to go home and rest.”
I shake my head. “No, Dad. I want to stay here with you.”
“I won’t be able to relax if you’re here hovering over me. Zora…I know you saw all those bills on my desk.”
I squeeze his hand. “Dad, we don’t need to talk about that now. You need to get as much rest as possible. Your blood pressure was sky high. Have you been taking your medication like you’re supposed to?”
Another smile graces his lips. “You sound so much like your mother right now. And you look like her too. You may not want to talk about it but I need to get this off my chest.”
“Dad—”
“No, let me finish. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems because you don’t need to be weighed down with my problems. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I can work out an arrangement for the house.”
“With what money, Dad? The bank isn’t going to put you on a payment plan once you’re in foreclosure. But let’s not worry about that right now. We can talk about it when you get discharged. There is something I wanted to ask you though, why didn’t you tell me about the cancer.”
He sighed and looked at the ceiling almost as if he was seeking divine intervention. “It’s not that serious.”
“Dad, since when has cancer not been serious?”
“It’s stage one prostate cancer. I only have a few more rounds of radiation and my doctor said that should take care of it.”
I release a heavy sigh as my head falls into the palm of my hand. My stomach begins to hurt and I’m on the verge of bursting into tears again. I desperately fight to hold them back because I don’t want to cause him further distress.
“You should have told me.”
“If I did, you probably would have taken time off work to come take care of me. You are entitled to a life of your own. You’ve forgotten that I’m a grown man capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re doing a fine job of it considering the state of your finances and how the house is in foreclosure!” I snaped and immediately regretted it.
He slowly closes his eyes and grimaces.
I’ve never raised my voice to my father in my life and this is the last place I need to be doing it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought that up.”
“It’s okay. But you don’t have to worry about that. When I get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”
“How Dad? With what money?”
“I’ll figure something out. I have a little something stashed away.”
I’d gone through his bank statements, he barely had enough to keep the utilities running every month.
“Dad, you need to be realistic. We’ll take care of this together. I’ll make sure you don’t lose the house even if I have to sell everything I own.”
He shakes his head so vehemently, his canula dislodges. His breathing becomes ragged, and he struggles to breath.
The machine starts to beep frantically and I start to panic.
Two nurses rush in and I’m shooed out of the room and for the second time within a span of 8 hours, I think I’m going to lose my dad.
Now I’m exhausted as I drive home to take a shower and take a quick nap so I can turn around and go back to the hospital. The doctors managed to stabilize him again assured me he’d be taken care of while I was away for a bit.
I don’t know if my father is overly optimistic or delusional in thinking can get out of this mess he’s in without help. Frankly, I’m not sure how much I can do to help either.
The number one priority is getting his health in order and I can do that by getting power of attorney to take over his medical decision, It would also be helpful to look into elder services to figure out my options about the foreclosure. There’s no way, I’ll allow him to lose the house he and Mom loved so much.
I’m not sure how I managed to drive back to the house without falling asleep behind the wheel. I haven’t slept since I’ve arrived back in town and my body feels heavy and the headache from earlier has intensified.
I contemplate skipping the shower but once I step until the stinging spray of the water, I feel somewhat better. Even better is when I finally slide into bed on the soft mattress of my teen years. An old comforting embrace that lulls me into the arms nocturnal bliss.
The abrupt shrill of the doorbell cuts its way through the sleep my body desperately craves. I initially think I could have been dreaming but the bell rings again and again.
Damn.
My father has a few neighbors he’s friendly with so maybe one of two of them noticed the ambulance earlier.
I’m tempted to pull the pillow over my head and ignore whoever this intruder was. But the doorbell ringing is followed by the obnoxious pounding of the door. Since my room is located over the front porch the knocking is especially pronounced.
With a groan, I roll out of bed to peak out the window to see if I can get a view of the visitor but they are obscured by the porch roof. I do however notice a flashy black sports car. I’m not car savvy but I can tell the vehicle is far beyond my tax bracket.
Could it be someone from the bank? Was it too late to make some sort of deal with them.
I’m only in a t-shirt and panties so I frantically search through my still unpacked suitcase for my pajama bottoms.
The bell rang again.
“In a minute!” I yelled, still frantically searching. I can’t find them.
Fuck it. I’ll just tell whoever it is to go away. It will only be for a minute.
By the time I make it downstairs, I’m so annoyed because whoever is on the other end of the door won’t stop knocking. Most people would have given up by now and left but this persistent pest was clearly on a mission.
Look through the peephole and still can’t make out who it is because their back is now turned to the door.
“What?” I demand when I yank the door open. I’m beyond annoyed. My head still hurts I’m so tired my entire body aches.
Slowly my unwelcome visitor turns around and I freeze.
I’ve got to be dreaming. I have to be because I’m standing in the middle of a nightmare.
If this isn’t a dream, Jackson Champion is standing on the doorstep.