I hesitated before posting this. But sometimes you really just need to let things out—to rant a little, to breathe—so you can keep going. I guess this is my way of coping.
The past few months, since October, have been spent going back and forth between clinics, hospitals, and diagnostic centers, searching for answers. Until now, we still don’t fully understand what’s happening to him. The doctors say it’s a rare condition. At first, they thought it was Dementia, then turned out it was not, then it was due to stroke but then it was not. Then multple possibilities keeps coming in and yet to be confirmed, might be a stroke, brain infection, brain parasite, or undefined disease.
Living in this kind of uncertainty has been a constant rollercoaster of mixed emotions—fear, exhaustion, hope, frustration, all tangled together.
I’m not a perfect daughter. We’ve had many differences, and our father-and-daughter relationship has been toxic for as long as I can remember. Still, I stayed. Through every challenge, every turn, every fall. Carrying the weight of responsibility and continuing on, because there was no one else to do it. Despite all the resentment I feel toward him, I’ve had to pull myself together, set my emotions aside, and do what needs to be done.
There are moments when I catch myself asking why this is happening to us—as if everything he did in the past wasn’t already enough, as if the pain had to continue. Sometimes I even find myself thinking, why doesn’t this just end? And then I feel guilty for even letting that thought cross my mind.
And after all of this—if his condition improves, if he heals—what then? Will anything truly change? Or will we just return to the same old days, filled with conflict and unresolved pain?
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