by Farrah Donaldson

Created on: August 03, 2009   Last Updated: August 04, 2009

My mother and I wait along with my father, who sat in the hospital bed which looked more like a crib designed for adults with all the fancy silver guard rails and oversized buttons.

"Damn, I betta start movin," my father blurted out. "This damn medicine they gave me got me crapping like mad."

This special phrase, over the last few weeks, has become my cue to help my

dad up and get his portable recliner as he called it. It just looked like a potty chair to me. Personally, I think my dad should have just slept in the potty chair. I mean, that's where he spent most of his time. He gave up the repetitive trips to the bathroom after the second day of being in the hospital and just opted for the potty chair. No matter how many times I was faced with this situation, it always made me laugh. Just seeing the relief on my fathers' face was so satisfying since lately, there's been very little to make me laugh, give my father relief or satisfy any of my family.

"Hello, did I catch you at an awkward time?" A voice questioned from outside of the state of the art curtain separating the rooms.

"Nope, you're a lil late for the awkward part. Come on in", my dad joked.

The curtain opened to reveal a white man of short stature who pearly lab coat had to be tailor made for him. I'd never seen a doctor that short let alone a coat for him to wear. Was this clean shaven mid forties guy really the doctor?

"Good to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Donaldson and is this your son?"

"Yes sir, my name's LaRay."

"Glad you're here LaRay. I'm Dr. Novak a heart specialist. I'm glad you're both here," Dr. Novak said. "I have something you all need to hear and I'm gonna be straight forward."

Straight forward? In all my life I've never known of anything that comes after straight forward to be very positive. I brace myself for the worst while praying for the best.

"Mr. Donaldson's heart is in very bad shape. There is nothing we can do to fix it. Honestly, I only give him roughly three months to live."

The whole room screamed silence yet you could still hear the single thought that echoed around each of our minds in an effort to make its' way out and into the chilling hospital air. My fathers' mind proved to be easier to navigate and released the thought quicker than that of my mother and myself.

"What do we do now?"

That very same day, my father came home from the hospital. It was agreed that he would be able to live out the rest of his days in the comfort of his home. How comfortable

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