by Kimberlee Decunzo

Created on: September 27, 2008

"How's he doing?" I asked.
"Fine, no change." The nurse replied.

I really hated it when they said that to me. How could he be fine? He was unconscious and on more medications than veins to plug them into. Not to mention the fact that you couldn't even touch him without gloves. He was septic. I had never seen that shade of yellow before. It was a grotesque shade that just screamed I'm infected!' He didn't look real anymore. To make matters worse I was struggling with guilt from our last fight.

We weren't close in a conventional kind of way. More like old war buddies. Only I didn't know that I was in the war now. I thought it was only his battle and that I was ok. People kept telling me that I had a problem. Actually people told me they refused to talk to me anymore until I got help for 'my problem'. I didn't care what they thought. They didn't really know me anyway. I sure had to obey the judge's decision after my accident, though. Yep, three meetings a week for three years. Among other obligations. But, those and my father in the condition he was in didn't mean that I was an alcoholic too.

His eyes looked huge and sunken. His mouth hung open and for the first time I realized that his teeth were completely rotten. I wondered how he had hid that from everyone before now. His body, however, was so swollen he was now about five times his normal size. No, I'm not like this, he's different.

I started to notice things around me more vividly. The chastising was sinking in and I was seeing the unnecessary trends in my life that I couldn't seem to break. The word God was creeping into my vocabulary. I knew some things would need to change but I didn't realize it would open my eyes to something that would soon be like breathing.

So there I was. Just me and Dad. Well, his body anyway. I was so hung-over that I really couldn't be in the moment. Maybe that was for the best. I somehow managed to make a very crucial decision despite how I was feeling. Once I heard the word septic' I knew what I needed to do. I was trained in medical terminology and I knew what that word meant. Overwhelming infection. There was pretty much no chance that he was coming out without being some sort of invalid. My father was too proud for that. Of course all alcoholics are proud. Of what, they know not. But, I know he never wanted to be a burden. Deep down he just couldn't make it anymore. He only knew how to face the world with rose-tinted glasses. Except, those glasses got foggy and he fell flat on

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