Before cutting ad my birthday cake, my father kissed me ad whispered to me, “Come to sleep next to me this karanoche”… There was something in her voice that ad made the knife in my hand tremble – Page 3

When I opened the door, Dad was there with two men dressed in medical uniforms. One of them was carrying a bag full of equipment. The other one brought the chair closer to the bed. I had no idea what was going on.

Dad sat down and finally told me the truth. A few weeks earlier, doctors had discovered a serious heart rhythm disorder. His doctor had warned him that he could not delay treatment, but Dad had postponed it because he didn’t want to pass me birthdays in the hospital. That morning his condition had worsened. The doctor had insisted that he go immediately to the hospital, but Dad had asked him for one more night at home so he could be with me.

The phone call I had accidentally heard was also from the doctor. Dad had said, “Don’t approach my daughter,” because one of the paramedics wanted to tell me what was going on during the party. Dad was afraid I’d panic.

Psychology

The reason I had asked myself to sleep near him was painfully simple. I was afraid that his condition would get worse during the night and no one would notice. I wanted him to be close, not to scare me, but so he could ask for help. However, the doctor had not trusted his decision and had sent some health workers to our home.

“I should have told you before,” Dad said, struggling to hold back tears. But no father wants to admit to his daughter that he is afraid too.

I approached and hugged it tightly.

“You always tell me that you don’t have to be ashamed of being afraid. That applies to you, too.