Let me take you on a trip back to one of my favorite yet worst memories of all time, because they go hand in hand and you’ll find out in a bit why this is so. It all starts back in 2012. I woke up to a normal Saturday morning four days after my birthday and I was looking forward to such a relaxing Saturday as I had nothing planned.
My phone rang. It was my Mom, now they went to Johannesburg for a dog show competition, so having my phone ringing wasn’t strange as I assumed she wanted to tell me what happened the previous night at the show. Much to my surprise, that wasn’t the case. My dad had just had a heart attack last night/early in the morning and had to be rushed to hospital. A blood clot the size of a golf ball shot through his lungs.
Now you can imagine my shock. I fell to the floor and couldn’t regard what I was hearing. I considered it must’ve been some sick joke, but not the horrible truth sank in like an anchor in my stomach, and for the entire day I just sat outside on my patio and smoked two boxes of cigarettes. Later that night, my Mom phoned again saying that they moved my dad from a hospital in Johannesburg to a hospital in Pretoria that has excellent cardiologists on duty. I started praying to God to please take care of and protect my dad but also my Mom as she is witnessing everything going on.
Fast forward to Monday morning when I received a phone call from my mom explaining to me what the doctors had said about my father’s condition and that they gave him a 5% chance of getting through this because he had to be put into an induced coma. The reason is to make sure his body doesn’t work overtime. In a panic, I tell my Mom to book me the first flight on Friday to Pretoria because the work only allowed me to leave the Friday.
I’ll never forget the sight of my dad hooked onto all those drips, ventilators, and dialyzes. Since I saw him until the night I fell asleep, I didn’t stop crying. Watching my Dad who was such a powerful gentleman, laying there lifeless, was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Well, the next five months were touch and go, with stress being at the height of everything.
Two days before my Mom’s birthday, sitting at home just staring at the TV and I received a text from my Mom. This was extremely unusual because for the past five months, we never sent each other text messages, only phone calls. Yet I open the message only to see that it’s an image of my dad awake and sitting up in bed. The joy and relief that fell over me was overwhelming and I can’t put it into words. I just fell to my knees, thanking God for the miracle he’s provided for me and my family.
My brothers and I flew up the very next day and were in awe at the sight of my dad turning away from death. The happiest moment I could’ve experienced in my life was seeing my father awake and talking to us was just unbelievable. That’s not all though. After a month, the doctors said he could come home and attend rehab in Cape Town. The pure joy just kept on coming and for the next six years, I saw my father getting stronger and stronger, beating a wheelchair and showing us that anything is possible if we put our mind to it. He even started working again and everything was better than a dream for me and my family.
Unfortunately, he’s not with us anymore. He lost the battle to cancer. But I am so proud to say that I am my father’s son, the strongest and most loving person I ever knew, who always put everyone else before him. Day by day, I try to live up to that expectation that he has given upon us.
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