It is the middle of March. The weather is perfect – not to hot and not to cold. Paige and I have been riding in this silent car with our aunt LeAnn for about thirty-five minutes now, and we are finally approaching the rehab center. I am really beginning to despise this place, it always seems to be associated with pain.
I get out of the car without saying goodbye to my aunt, not as though she would care anyways. The only reason she is helping us, is because we have no where else to go. I mean, how could we have predicted we would be spending spring break in the hospital? My sister and I begin the short journey to my dads room.
“I really hope daddy is in a better mood today,” my sister ask with an anxious smile, “it hurts my feelings when he yells at us.” “Me too,” I say, trying to comfort her, “but it is not dad’s fault, the pain medicine is what makes him yell and act that way, I promise it’ll get better.” I wish I could take away my father’s pain, but I know that is not possible. My father is suppose to be unbreakable, yet here he is, broken in a hospital bed. The elevator arrives and we scurry excitedly into my dads room. The room is average sized. There are two long plain hospital beds, one on each side of the room. My dads bed is closest to the window on the left of the room. He is covered up with three thin white hospital blankets and one turquoise blanket we brought from home. He is wearing a blue and white checkered hospital gwon with a pair of red shorts, a blue/grey neck brace and green ‘no slip’ socks. “Hey girls,” he says in a cheerful voice, “how was y’alls night?” “Pretty good actually.” I answer just as cheerfully, trying not to damper his good mood. My mom is sitting on the other bed across the room.
“Have y’all eaten yet?”
“Yeah, we ate before we left so we could go to therapy with dad today.” My mom looks extremely exhausted, but I guess that’s what happens when you have to stay up all night with your husbands and deal with his pains of a...
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