We were all there together, only Roxi was missing. They transported my father to an even smaller room than before. This room is an intensive care room, the after surgery room. There tree beds in this tiny room, two men and a woman. They plugged father at heart monitors, breathing monitors and IV's. He is at the end of this very small room, by the bathroom.
The nurses had pity of us and allowed us, one by one, to go and look at father from the door. We could not go inside now because of "the visit". Then they said that we are to many and they shoo-ed us out. Mirela said she will stay with father now. We forced mom to go to change and sleep at Roxi's house. . Magda and her husband Visu needed to go back home and return to their son and to their work. I went with them too, I wanted to take a shower and then to come back. We were not talking too much on our way to Roxana's apartment.. We all tired, worried and sad.
WE got to Roxana's place, and of course we had to limit ourselves in divulging any information. Mom told her some details, never saying the word ''tumor'. I am not even sure at this point if Roxi is aware of what really is going on or not. Roxi had contractions all day. We were afraid that she will give birth premature and we couldn't have that ...especially with everything else going on. No-one will be there for her, other than her husband. That was sad as fact but very true..I went to take the shower. It was Tuesday night. The day that I first cry since I arrived. I wanted to scream but I could not because they will hear me. So I cried silently, suffocating with my tears. After taking the shower and changing my clothes I went downstairs. Mirela already had called..she absolutely needed me there at the hospital.
Magda and Visu left me at the hospital on their way to their home which home is 120 km away. It was 9 pm.
I paid the guard, I told him that I am one of the daughters of the man with four daughters...'I am the one from Canada" I added. He knew about us and he let me in after folding the money in his pocket.
When in the hospital, everybody gets to know everybody.. We do not have names but we are defined by the sick ones, we are theirs.... we belong to them.
There is the daughter of the women with inoperable tumor, there is the wife of the 27 years old in coma due to random beating on the street, there is the mother in law of the young 28 biology teacher that had a stroke, there is the wife of such and such, etc.
Is weird how are we defined not by our good deeds or by our sins, but by our loved ones. Did ever notice that? We are defined by our pain, and by our hopes.
I found Mirela by father's bed. She looked sick already. Her beautiful skin looks darker and she has dark circles around her big brown eyes. When she sought me the light got back in her eyes.
My father woke up briefly and he grabbed my sister hand and squeezed hard, he tried to remove his IV, and he broke his ties (as he was tied up to the bed handle). Mirela was terrified and in shock especially since she did not see him like this ever in her life. Last time she met my father was the day before he got admitted to the hospital and back then he was still himself.
I realized what is she is going through so I told her to come out from the room and that I will replace her.
We decided to do shifts of two hours each. When one of us will be inside with my father the other one will be outside in the hall. We also brought a folding chair for the one outside.
The hours were going very slow..The hearth monitor was doing funny noises and will have different colours coming up..At first I panicked, but one of the ladies in the room (which was there for her daughter in law) told me that this is normal and to not get scared.
This night we were so lucky: we had a nurse that actually cared about the people in the ICU. Of course we took care of her, but she would have been human even if we did not.
Then the other luck was that the anaesthesist was there too that night, and although she refused the money, and she was so abrupt with us at the begining, she was really there for my father. I gave her a hug and she did not expect that to happen. The doctors have status of Gods in Romania, and in general you do not touch The Gods. This Godess of ours was indeed a very good professional and passionate lady. I must say the whole team of doctors was fantastic: highly professional, the best in their business.
None of them wanted to accept money, at least not for the time been. They all wanted to make sure my father survived and was well first.
Father opened his eyes again. He looked at me and he wshispered: "send Mirela home". I looked at him, I want to cry again, but I am happy that he talks and that he recognize us.."No, dad, I cannot do that, see we are here both of us, and she cares for you, so I cannot ask her to go..". He couldn't talk very well as he had a tube down his throat, but he made the effort saying: "Send her home to her child, is not good for her to stay here with me, she shouldn't be here..". I knew why is saying that, he was just affraid that she will get scared and cry and get sick. That's my father: always thinking about his girls. I ignored his demand and I continued talking: " You are looking good dad, you did great, I am so proud of you..you need to drink water...I love you dad, we all do..you must get well now, ok?". I took his hand and I kissed it. He had a tear on the corner of his eye. "I love you dad", I keep saying that in my head, and I continue"Thank you God".
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