But my father has been sick forever. It’s just all this stuff around the sickness that makes it harder. I hate visiting hours. I hate being told that a doctor is going to come talk to you and answer a question, and sitting around for infinity waiting for dude to show up, only for him to bounce thirty seconds later. I hate the building. I hate parking hella far from the entrance and then rushing to get to the whatever-the-fuck pavilion and taking the third elevator down the blahzay-blah memorial corridor and by the time you get there . . .” She exhaled heavily. “I just hate it.”
