My dad finally went to the doctor’s office today, and after having his chest X-rayed, we’ve discovered that he actually does not have pneumonia or any chest infections thankfully, but he has excess water trapped in his lungs as a result of the surgery. This basically just means that he needs to increase dosage for a certain medication he’s taking to empty the lungs out so he can breathe properly and stop the violent coughing. I was really relieved.

However, I wasn’t that relieved to hear my dad say to me, “I’m just saying this (lowers his voice), but you could have cancelled your Australia trip this month to come home to help Mommy.” My dad doesn’t make random suggestions like this unless someone’s been feeding his head with gossip and bad mouthing — i.e. my mother. I told him that we booked this trip way back in the summer — long before we knew anything was even remotely wrong with him. “I came back for over a week and a half to help out last minute. Does that suddenly not mean anything anymore?” I asked. I felt so hurt. “It’s okay, Yvonne, my dad responded. “I understand.” No, you really do not.

Nothing is ever enough for her. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I am always the selfish one, the one who never thinks about family. I am the one who never cares.

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