My dad almost got his hand chopped off in a table saw yesterday.
He called my mom from the ER, and then she called me.
We went to the hospital while he was being operated on.
The surgeon came out and said the procedure was successful:
his pointer finger had to receive a skin graft from his hip
his thumb had to be sewn up very carefully as well.
Feeling may or may not be regained in the tip of his fingers.
Considering his age, he was doing very well.
We went to him in the recovery room, and he was very out of it.
Unexpectedly, I felt faint and nauseas and almost passed out, but I got over it.
He was awake, but not aware of what was going on; he wanted to know what time it was over and over and over.
When he looked in my eyes and knew who I was and why I was there, I realized I have a bond with him that I don't have with any other living being.
In that moment, I knew I wanted to be a parent.
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