Nothing makes you question how you can go on more than the threat of losing a parent. And, last year my father, the towering figure who saved me more times than I can count, was battling for his survival.

Every time I saw my mother’s cell phone number on my phone my hands would shake, my anxiety would rise and my heart would race. I feared she might say he was gone.

Each seizure damaged his brilliant mind and stole some of his memory. He wasted away slowly; losing weight at a frightening pace because he couldn’t eat. We were helpless. The worst part is that doctors initially couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Luckily, I’d learned from my battle to find the correct diagnosis for the autoimmune disease that plagues me, that you never surrender and never stop looking for answers. So, we didn’t.

My father got a stent to remove a blood clot in his heart, fixed an aneurysm, and lives with heart arrhythmia and persistent clots that saps his energy and make it hard for him to walk.

Still, my father has battled back and he’s still here. He keeps moving even if it’s with a cane or a wheelchair. He takes his medication and he keeps following up with doctors. My father keeps striving to add more years to the 50 he’s already spent with his wife, my mother.

I realize no matter how old I get I still want my daddy around. I know some day he will leave but I pray it’s not anytime soon.

Happy Birthday, dad! I love you! #chronicpain #chronicillness #disability #family #happybirthday #father #autoimmunedisease #aneurysm #bloodclot #misdiagnosis #lossofaparent #seizure