My Dad

I have just been for a 55 minute run. Exhaustion and heat has forced me back in. In truth I was running away. My father is sick. Real sick. He had a stroke. This is my Superman, and now he is a babbling wreck. He recognises us but does not know our names. He cannot smile, nor does he want to. He doesn't know what is wrong, because he is so incoherent he can't comprehend. I am helpless. I have never ever imagined any of my parents like this. He doesn't know his name, his date of birth, my nephew's names. I am devastated. I would give anything in the world to make him better. I can't eat, I am numb. He is a child again. When somebody asks him a question he looks to us to answer. If he does answer it is a bunch of incomprehensible numbers. I have not cried, I am thankful he is alive.

I found him, I had to dress him and call an ambulance. I vomited when the doctor told me he had had a stroke. I had nobody to lean on, I was alone because everybody else was somewhere else through no choice of their own.

I am afraid.