Role Reversal

When I was about 8 years old, I was riding in the back of my Auntie Ruth's station wagon. It was this powder blue boat-of-a-car. Me, my brother Kyle, and one of my cousins were in the very back. I was sitting and looking ahead when my uncle stepped on the brakes. I hit my head on the seat in front of me. I didn't think anything of it, but when we got home, I must have been a mess. Apparently there was blood. Several days later, my dad took me to the doctor. I remember laying on the table and Dr. Wong examining my eyes. Then he told my dad to hold me down so that he could do some work. I don't remember it hurting, but I do remember my dad holding me down.

Fast forward three decades. On Sunday, July 25th, my mother and I had to take my dad to the ER. After living with cancer for over four years, my father's liver is failing him. He was weak, confused, and combative at times. As I was in the ER room with my dad, I saw the phlebotomist come in. They needed to draw blood. Unfortunately, my dad has poor veins. I knew it wasn't going to be good. I stood behind my dad as the phlebotomist prepared for the blood draw and then inserted the needle. He couldn't find the vein. As he moved the needle around, my dad began moving in pain. I tried to hold my dad still as the phlebotomist searched for the vein. And in that moment, I remembered my day at the doctor's office, holding me down on the examination table. And I longed to be 8 years old ago again.