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He leans back into the fluffy pillows at his back, sunken cheeks, and dark circles standing out against his pale and paper-thin skin. I watch my father’s hand tremble as he reaches for the glass of water sitting on the table beside his bed.
I abandon my suitcase in the hallway and stride across the room, snagging the glass before he can spill it all over himself. “Here, Dad, let me help you.”
His weary brown eyes flash with relief. “You are a good daughter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I smile and hold the cup to his cracked lips as he leans forward to take a sip. “You would be just fine without me.”
The tremble to my voice is audible, but he doesn’t hear as he sputters and the water cascades down his chin. I set the glass to the side as he started coughing again.
As he coughs, my chest tightens, and my heart feels as if it’s on the verge of exploding. I pin my shaking hands to my side, not wanting him to see my fear.
Dad’s cough has been getting worse for over a month now. He rarely goes more than an hour without a fit, but he still won’t let me take him to the hospital.
He says that it is going to cost more money. That he hates seeing how hard I work when he spends his days in bed.
I don’t care. I just want him to live.
I’m going to have to talk him into going to a hospital soon. He needs his oncologist to take another look at his lungs.
I need to know how much time I have left with him.
Dad’s body jerks and spasms with each hack. His wheezes make me wish that we had forked over more money for an oxygen machine.
He would at least be comfortable if he wasn’t such a stubborn man.
The lung cancer is coming back. The medications stopped working.
The thought haunts me day and night. With only thirty percent function in his lungs, he won’t survive another round of cancer.
No. He isn’t dying. He is strong. He beat this once, and whatever is happening to him now isn’t going to kill him.
It can’t kill him. I’m only twenty-two. I’m not old enough to lose my only family yet. I still need him. And I want him to watch me succeed. I want to make him proud.
My eyes burn with tears as his fit ends, bright red blood spots on the buttery yellow sheets across his lap. I hold the glass to his mouth again, and he takes another sip.
He lifts a wobbly finger and points at me. “I can see you worrying about the hospital again. Stop it. There is nothing that those quacks can do for me now.”
“You need to see someone. It’s only going to get worse.” My tone is pleading, but I know it won’t do any good.
There is a little voice in the back of my mind that says he is determined to die here.
Dad groans and rubs a hand over his eyelids as he reclines against the pillows. “You should not have to take care of me.”
I force a smile and put the glass down. “It’s okay that you need help now. You’ll feel better soon, and then you can help me with your hands and feet.”
Making light of the situation usually eases his troubled mind, but this time it only makes his frown deeper. The lines at the corners of his mouth crease as he shakes his head.
“Anna, you work too hard to take care of me. What are you doing now, three different jobs?”
“Something like that.” I fluff his pillows and adjust his blankets, making a mental note to wash them when I get home. “I must get going for a last-minute flight, but I’ll be back to take care of you soon after. Do you want me to see if Hazel can come to stay with you for a little while?”
Dad looks at me like I’ve drained the life from him with a simple question. “I do not need your friend coming by to look after me. Just like I don’t need you working yourself to the bone to care for me.”
It’s the same argument we’ve been having for the last four years. He hates that I took over his debt payments, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it. The cancer has left him too weak to work and interest on the loan just keeps growing.
I shrug and smooth down the few strands of hair he has left after chemotherapy. “What else would I be doing with my time?”
Dad pounds his frail fist on the mattress. “You’ll still be working long after I’m dead. I should never have borrowed money from those crooks.”
