My mother’s knee surgery crystallized something for me, even if I was unable to identify it at the time. My dad was her useless companion but he was her companion. I ridiculed his inability to take care of her while showing any patience, but the point was that my dad was trying to take care of her. He monitored her medication to make sure she didn’t take too many or too few Oxys, just enough so that she could build her strength back up. He ensured she ate three meals a day, even when she refused, when she cried that even eating took too much energy. She slept on the guest bed brought down to
...more
