Bursting his bubble

Well, that was emotional. Although obviously I tried not to show any emotion as my Mum had always trained me not to cry in front of him as that would enhance and encourage his nastiness. That is still ingrained in me.

He has been moved to a different ward, so I asked if there was any visiting on this ward. The nurse started his monologue of 'no visiting due to Covid-19'. I stopped him. I understood. He said he could put dad in a chair and wheel him to the ward foyer though so we could have a chat with him. I thought that would be a good idea for us all.

My husband and I walked the long walk into the bowels of the hospital and arrived at his ward. The nurse went to go and fit him in the wheelchair with all his necessary equipment attached. We heard the scuttling of the wheelchair as it wibble wobbled up the corridor. We had been told to sit on pew-like benches so he could be placed two metres away from us for our first face to face encounter in a week. We all had masks on, probably a given these days.

Now, I am not sure if the nurse had told him where he was going or who he was going to see but when he came into view and suddenly realised it was us, his face crumpled. He became overwhelmed with the situation.

I have only ever seen my dad cry one other time when I was nine. He had yellow jaundice and it had ravaged his body. Actually he looked very similar then to how he does now. Although his skin was tinged with yellow. He had been overwhelmed then too, something had been said and it was all too much for him. Usually, he would have burst into a fiery rage. That time he had been reduced to tears. I was shocked, my dad, the monster had tear ducts with real tears.

Now, seeing his eyes filling up above his mask, my immediate thoughts were that he was upset. He had been safely cocooned in his hospital bubble, feeling so poorly and weak, then suddenly he was thrust into the limelight for us to see him in that state. I suppose for him, others' impressions of him have always been important. But here he felt he was stripped bare and he had no energy to put on an act any longer.

I found that really hard. Of course I tried to be my normal practical self, checking in on his health and welfare and what he was reading. I was acutely aware that even with two blankets, he was ferociously shaking with cold in this foyer that was engulfed with air from breezy hospital passages. We needed to let him return as soon as possible to his warm cosy bed, and his own comfortable bubble that is the ward with all the helpful medically trained strangers.

I am sitting here wondering how he is feeling about our visit. My husband and I were saying how we would have also been so overwhelmed with emotion if that had happened to us. But I also have to consider that, that is my dad and how we would feel about an event like that is different to how he would feel. Maybe it is best to leave him ensconced in his bubble at present.