What a Start

April had just begun… and another wave hit.

My dad was warded.

This was the second time I brought someone to A&E, and both times, they ended up being admitted. When the doctor called and said my dad had to be warded — and that he had four fractured ribs — I was shocked.

Yes, four.

My mum was with me, and we rushed over immediately. But only one person was allowed into A&E, and only for 15 minutes.

So I went in.

Standing there, looking at him… I teared.
The last time I cried like this was when my mum was warded.

And now, my dad.

I didn’t know what to say.

Outside, my sister was anxiously trying to access his medical reports, and I had to help set it up on his phone. At the same time, her dog wasn’t doing well — kidney failure, old age… it felt like time was running out.

She was torn.
Should she come over, or stay home?

I told her to stay.

I know her — she loves her dog deeply. If she left and something happened, she would regret it. Yet at the same time, she had a trip coming up with her son for a bowling competition.

The timing just felt… off.

She asked me,
“Do you think I’ll still get to see my dog when I’m back?”

I couldn’t answer.

The air felt heavy.

On Monday, she took urgent leave — to bring my mum to visit my dad, and at the same time, to be present for her dog.

She wanted to bring the dog to the vet again that evening.
But her husband said, “What can the vet do now?”

Most likely, they would only advise putting the dog down — a decision no one is ready for.

A difficult decision… one that somehow felt both distant and painfully familiar.