Wednesday, June 20, 2007
So anytime you find yourself typing "angiogram" and "mortality" into Google, just stop yourself. My father went to a cardiologist yesterday and I got an email from Rahul in the middle of my night that he needs an angiogram. It's scary, although everyone assures me it's routine. It's also one of these things where you don't quite know what to say or do--and being far away makes the fretting somewhat worse. We are not the touchy-feely kind of family, but close despite all our dysfunctions. I suppose there's something about accepting that your parents will age and eventually die that reflects some entrance into true adulthood. There, I wrote it. For kids like me, who grew up away from our parents' home, I suspect they represent even more our entire universe and link to ourselves and our past. Now living in India, I suppose Nitin and I have made new ties to their home, their country, but I still don't think either of us can imagine life going on without either of our sets of parents. They are like our limbs, our eyes, our navigation systems. I hope my father remembers that on Monday. But like I said, we're not really touchy-feely so he's just going to have to sense it when I say something mundane like "What kind of food will they serve you in the hospital?" That's code for all the things I have left unsaid, regrettably, admittedly.