The doctors said it had been a minor ischemic stroke. Fernando would survive, but he would need physical therapy and expensive medications for the rest of his life. They also said he was at high risk of having another stroke, one that could be fatal. Carmen called her four children from the hospital, her voice trembling as she explained what had happened. She hoped they would come running, that they would drop everything to be with their father in this critical moment. Daniel arrived two days later, citing work meetings he absolutely could not cancel.
He stayed at the hospital for 30 minutes. He briefly inquired about his father’s condition and then said he had to leave because Lorena was waiting for him for an important dinner with clients. “But Dad needs support now,” Carmen said, unable to believe what she was hearing. “He almost died, Daniel, can’t you stay a little longer?” “Mom, I have responsibilities,” Daniel replied with a coldness that chilled Carmen to the bone. “Dad, is he okay now? The doctors said he’ll recover.”
I can’t neglect my job because of this. I have a family to support, bills to pay. Carmen wanted to shout at him that Fernando had responsibilities too, that he too had a family to support, bills to pay, but that he had never, ever let that stop him from being there for his children when they needed him. She wanted to remind him of all the times Fernando worked double shifts to pay for his college, all the nights he slept only four hours to finish a carpentry project that would give them enough money for Daniel’s next semester.
But she remained silent because the pain in her throat was so intense she couldn’t speak. Monica arrived the same day as Daniel. She was elegantly dressed in high heels that echoed on the hospital floor, her designer briefcase in hand. She reviewed her father’s medical records with a clinical efficiency that would have been admirable had it been accompanied by any emotion. But Monica reviewed everything with the same expression she probably used with her patients.
Professional, distant, completely devoid of the emotional connection one would expect a daughter to have with her ailing father. “The treatment is appropriate,” Monica concluded after reviewing everything. “The doctors are doing the right thing. Dad will recover, although he’ll probably have some physical limitations. Make sure he takes his medication on time, Mom, and that he goes to all his physical therapy appointments.” “Monica,” Carmen said, her voice barely a whisper, “you can stay with us for a few days. Your father needs emotional support, not just medical.”
He needs to feel that his family is with him. Monica glanced at her designer watch, a gesture Carmen had come to hate. “I can’t, Mom. I have surgeries scheduled all week. My patients need me. Your father needs you, too,” Carmen replied, feeling tears welling in her eyes. “Mom, understand,” Monica said with an exasperated sigh, as if Carmen were a silly little girl who didn’t grasp the obvious. “I’m a doctor. I have responsibilities to dozens of families. I can’t neglect all those sick children just because Dad had a minor stroke.”
“Besides, you’re here to take care of him. That’s what the handcuffs are for.” And with that, Monica left, her heels clicking down the hospital corridor, leaving Carmen standing there, feeling completely invisible, completely worthless. Sebastian didn’t even come to the hospital. He called, his voice sounding distant, almost distracted. “Mom, I’d love to come, but I’m in the middle of preparing my next presentation and it’s super stressful. Besides, I’m sure Dad’s fine, right? I mean, the doctors know what they’re doing. Send him my best wishes and tell him I’ll call him soon.”
Carmen hung up the phone without saying anything more. What could she say? Her son, the sensitive artist who once wept at any injustice, the boy who had been so empathetic he couldn’t bear to see others suffer. Now he considered an art exhibition more important than being with his father after a stroke. Gabriela didn’t come either. She sent expensive flowers to the hospital, imported roses that probably cost a fortune, with a card that read, “Get well soon, Dad. We love you very much.”
“We’re sorry we can’t be there, but we’re in the middle of a crucial project.” Carmen looked at the expensive flowers and felt something break inside her. Her daughter had probably spent $200 on flowers, but couldn’t take a day off to visit her father. What had happened to her children? When had money, success, and social status become more important than family? Fernando spent a week in the hospital. Carmen didn’t leave his side for a single minute.
He slept in an uncomfortable chair next to his bed. He ate the awful hospital food. He refused to leave even when the nurses begged him to go home and rest. During that week, his four children each called once or twice, brief conversations where they asked how their dad was and then made up excuses to hang up quickly. When Fernando was finally discharged, Carmen had to take him home in a taxi because none of his children were available to pick him up.
Daniel was in an important meeting, Monica was in surgery. Sebastian was setting up his exhibit. Gabriela was presenting a project to a crucial client. The taxi ride home was silent. Carmen held Fernando’s hand, feeling it tremble slightly from the effects of the stroke. Fernando stared out the window, his eyes moist, and Carmen knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Their children had abandoned them. The following months were difficult. Fernando needed physical therapy three times a week.
Each session cost $70, which they could barely afford. Her monthly medications cost $400. Carmen also began to have health problems. Her arthritis worsened day by day. There were days when she couldn’t open her own hands without screaming in pain. She also developed hypertension, probably from the stress of caring for Fernando and worrying about money. Carmen called her children to ask for help—not much, just a little to cover the medications and therapies—but the response she received devastated her.
Leave a Comment