My Other Father
My Other Father I sit at my father’s bedside listening to his breathing. The rhythmic gasps of the ventilator disrupt the stillness of his coma. A monitor glowing lime green displays his blood pressure, screaming when the numbers drop below safe levels. His pulse flashes blip, blip, blip across the screen. Wires of blue, white, and yellow disappear under the edge of his hospital gown. My father has a hole in his neck. I can’t stop looking at it. A bandaged incision runs the length of his chest. A nurse tells me the surgeon sawed through my father’s breastbone to reach his heart. I knew him so little before his surgery; now I must know everything, every detail of the violations to his body and wholeness. Each day I sit by my father’s side, talking to him, hoping my familiar voice will call him back to waking. I tell him about the February sunshine, the Chinese restaurant down the block—anything just to keep talking. He gives no hint that he hears me, no sign...
