Today marks one year since I received that call from my dad. He was in Pennsylvania for his cousin’s daughters wedding. He was not feeling well since leaving Florida when he drove 1,000 miles for his semi-annual visit to Ohio, but first he made a pit-stop to PA for the wedding.
His cousin took him to the urgent care center in Pennsylvania where they recommended he go to the emergency room. He told them that he would be heading to Ohio in the morning and he would have his daughters take him.
He never even made it to the reception.
Looking back on it now, I cannot help but think that my Dad knew something serious was wrong.
When he called me and explained how he was feeling and that the urgent care advised him to go to the ER, I offered to come to Pennsylvania with my sister, and we could bring him and his car home so he would not have to make the drive. He declined.
He arrived at 12:00pm almost exact on Monday, October 8, 2018, and by 12:15pm, we were headed to the emergency room after stopping to pick up my sister.
We waited 8 hours in the ER waiting room. Little did we know that this 8 hours would be the last time we would spend with my father without the loom of cancer over our heads.
I remember the doctor saying that he doubted it was cancer because my father quit smoking 25 years before.
Unfortunately, the doctor’s doubts were wrong.
