My Dad and Our Strange Relationship

I have a strange relationship with my dad.  He loves me unconditionally but can’t handle the fact that I’m physically ill.  Even though I am sick, my dad is very proud of my intelligence.  When I was homeschooling, he got me started reading books on mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh.  Maybe it was his way of telling me that he understood I had to make the most of each moment because my moments on earth were limited, or maybe he was just being a good dad and trying to make sure I had a happy life.

My Dad Secretly Knows That The Future Isn’t Guaranteed to Me

Whatever my dad’s motives were for introducing me to mindfulness, I had learned that the only thing that mattered was the present moment.   If there was something I was thinking about doing that I knew would make me happy, I had to make sure to do it as soon as possible.  My dad and the mindfulness books both always told me not to put anything off.  My dad said it was so I didn’t procrastinate, and Thich Nhat Hanh said it was because the future wasn’t guaranteed to anyone.  Considering how sick I was, the future was definitely not guaranteed to me.

How My Dad Taught Me to Choose Happy

Another think my dad and Thich Nhat Hanh taught me was that life was a series of choices.  It took me seconds to realize that being happy was a choice.  Every day I made the decision to be happy and find the positives in whatever I did have.

At my 19th birthday party, my mom brought out a cake that said “Happy Birthday Becca on it, but she also brought out an iced black tea from Starbucks with no ice, three equal, and three sweet n low.  That was exactly how I liked it.  My mom knew that all the sugar in the birthday cake would trigger my stomach to go haywire and cause something called ‘dumping syndrome’ (major, non-stop diarrhea, accompanied by nausea, vomiting, a racing heartbeat, hot flashes, dizziness, and bloating, that would start within minutes of eating or drinking something with sugar in it).

My mom had stuck a candle in the hole in the top of the cup of Starbucks iced tea where the straw was supposed to go in.  

Distracting From Pain at my Party

On that particular day, I was NJ tube-free so I could swallow my drink without feeling like I was gagging on something in the back of my throat every time I swallowed

We had tons of word games out like Scrabble, Boggle, Upwords, and Bananagrams.  Everyone was playing them tournament style.  I’m pretty sure I played each game at least once.  I had a bit of a headache that day, but usually had something hurting somewhere all the time.  As usual I just focused on keeping myself sitting up and busy the whole time. That way I could distract myself from the consistent background throb of my head as much as possible. 

What I Won’t Let My Illness Steal From Me

Toward the end of the party, I was starting to get really tired.  The fatigue had been there, lingering in the background, the whole time.  However, I refused to let it drag me down.  Instead, I tried to turn my mind to feel the pride of making it all the way to my nineteenth birthday.  I had made it all the way through middle school hell.  Back in sixth and seventh grade it had felt like a trap that I would never escape from. 

 It helped to look back at everything I had accomplished.  I couldn’t forget my 4.0 GPA this first year of college/last year of high school.  In my head I made a conscious choice to have a happy birthday.  There was no way I was going to let my illness take that from me.

High school had been littered with multiple visits to the pediatric intensive care unit.  I practically had a room reserved for me at the adolescent unit of Baystate Medical Center.  Childhood and adolescence hadn’t been easy for me, but that’s why I felt so proud of myself for growing past it.

My Dad’s Unconditional Love For Me is Mutual

After the party was over and my dad, mom, and I were cleaning up, my dad pulled me aside.

“I just want you to know how proud I am of you for graduating high school and finishing your first year of college, and how happy I am to call you my daughter. Even if you didn’t have a perfect GPA I’d be proud of you. I know you worked really hard to get where you are, and I just wanted to let you know that.”

My dad leaned forward and gathered me in a big hug.

I still fit in his arms like a little kid.

“Thank you Dad,” I told him in a voice that was happy but soaked with tears.  “I love you.”

My dad patted me on the back gently before letting me go.

“I love you too Becca, more than you will ever know.”

Why Can’t There Be a Way To Measure Love?

I wanted to cry after my dad let go of me.  It was rare for him to show so much emotion, or to tell me he loved me with so much energy behind it.  I wondered what he meant by, “more than you will ever know”? It sounded mysterious.  I wondered if he knew how much I loved him. My love for my parents knew no boundaries.  I had unconditional love for them. It was too bad there wasn’t a way to demonstrate amounts of love in numbers or signals to communicate it better.

After we finished cleaning up from the party my dad, my mom, and I went inside and I headed up to my room.  Pushing aside a couple teddy bears and lying down on my bed was a relief.  My body was exhausted and went limp.  I could barely move enough to pull up the covers.  It was only 6:45 PM but I was done for the day.  As my eyes drifted shut, I barely noticed that I was still wearing a pair of Unicorn Crocs under the covers.