The past ten days have been some of the most difficult days of my life. It started with a call to my father, a board certified physician, to check on my mom after her first dose of hard core chemotherapy. "I didn't want to wake her," he says. "But she needs to be hydrated, Dad. Wake her up."
Several minutes later he calls back. "Can you come over now," he says nearly crying. "I need your help. Mom is non-responsive."
I arrived at the house along with the paramedics. They forced her to wake up and she was unable to speak. She had a look of terror in her eyes as she did all she could to spit out a single word. "What?" she asked in a gurgled, distorted voice. "What? What?"
I knew what she was asking me. What am I doing here? What is going on? What are these people doing in my room in the middle of the night? What happened to me?...