Personal Narrative: My Father Is Dying

My father is dying. There is no way around that fact. He is not slipping away piece by piece, but is being taken from me in large chunks. His cheeks have begun to hollow and his eyes have begun to sink. He complains of the loss of feelings in his fingers, and the tightness in his throat. A gastrostomy tube was surgically inserted into his abdomen when he became unable to swallow. He stopped going to the grocery store with me. He stopped wanting to take walks around the 100-acre land he worked endless days all of his adult life to buy. He said it was because he was tired. He is always tired. My parents waited to tell me that my father had been diagnosed with Multiple System Atrophy until after finals week. They wanted to make sure I still did well on my exams. The moment felt surreal. I calmly spoke my questions into the phone: “what is the exact diagnosis?”, what is the doctors plan?”, “what are they going to give him to make him well again?”. They said that at the age of 76, the only thing that can be done is to make him comfortable. I hung up the phone, sat on my kitchen floor for what seemed like hours, staring at the grains of wood visible in the cabinets. I felt helpless. I still feel helpless. Before my father’s diagnosis, I wanted to go to medical school only because I was …show more content…
Before my father’s diagnosis, I shadowed Dr. Cook while he attempted to explain that strength. I watched him speak to patients admitted from hospices and nursing homes. Often they had no contact with their families, and were left ill and confused. His voice was always understanding. His hands were always willing to hold theirs. He told me that sometimes compassion is all you can offer a patient. I never truly understood what he meant, until there was nothing else I could offer my