Hospital

My beloved Pa is in hospital. He has injured his back. It is hard to sit by his bed and see him powerless. To see the purply red marks where the drip has gone in and created a big bruise. He looks frail and elderly. He is 87. He means so much to me and I love him for so many reasons.
As I read to him yesterday he seemed to come and go, yet laughed at, responded to the story. He had conversations with me in between the hospital business that goes on. He leant over at one stage and unhooked some strands of hair that had caught in my earring. He is not so out of it, despite the painkillers, the age, the appearance of being an old man.
He asked me why I was there on a Saturday because I normally visit him on Sundays. I told him since he was sitting still, I thought I’d come both days. Last night I found out that my brothers and sisters and cousins were coming from hours away to see him, so I let them have their time today. I will see him during the week.
I can’t stop thinking about him though. I was grateful of my friends this weekend visiting and phoning and talking about their lives. Funny, both of them kept saying they felt bad about discussing their worries, when I was worried about pa, but they were doing me a great favour, distracting me.
I hope they (the hospital staff in general) take care of him and treat him with the respect he deserves. If only they knew him as I did!