The wake-up call

Earlier this week I got some bad news from Dad: He had intense pain in his lower belly. He had a doctor's appointment for the following morning, but that left us plenty of time to wonder. Was it a kidney stone?  Pancreatic cancer? A hernia? Would it involve an E.R. visit in the middle of the night (like the first time he had stones), or an operation? And if so, who would care for Mom, and how quickly could we get this care?

After considering these immediate problems, the bleak larger picture became apparent. If Dad gets sick, what then?  We have no family members able (or, alas, willing) to assist him and Mom other than myself; my husband works out of state, and abandoning his job would mean that I would most likely have to go back to work, at least more than my current haphazard freelancing - counterproductive in every respect. I do have friends who could help out with my kids for a few days or weeks, but beyond that, we would be in uncharted territory.  The kids and I could move in with them, but not until school's out, and until then, we have statewide school testing, ballet recitals, birthday parties, concerts and similar Huge Events.

In the meantime, I was utterly helpless, with nothing to do but to prescribe Advil, which somehow he had forgotten existed, worry, and call other people and make them worried. 

Without getting into specifics, we think that Dad's o.k. for the moment, but may have some stress-related digestive problems. Which may not be life-threatening, but could make his daily life even more miserable. He has help with Mom five days a week now, so that may help. Why do families live so far apart these days?  How fragile the whole setup is.  One unlucky break can unravel many lives.

Photo: Florida Repertory Theater