Cruel Realizations

I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.

My career goal is to become a physician assistant, a PA. The medical field is something that calls to me, and I feel like my life is steadily heading in that direction as I continue pursuing experience at the hospital I volunteer at, and by getting certifications as an EMT and as a medical interpreter.

It already is a rewarding career. Being able to help people in need in so many different ways that I could imagine. Like, listening to them vent their feelings, bringing them food/water, and even changing their diaper when they no longer have control over their bowel movements.

But somehow I feel like it’s tainted. Why? Because I can’t even help those close to me, specifically, my father.

He breaks out in hives after he sweats. Apparently, everywhere and anywhere. It seems like he’s allergic to his own sweat. He knows, it and does nothing about it except self-medicate with this cream sent over from Guatemala from my aunt. At least he’s doing something right? Sure, except it keeps coming back. Every. Time. He. Sweats. We don’t use the A/C here and we don’t have weather lower than 90 degrees here during the summer and fall seasons. So, can you see my frustration?

Problem is, he hates the doctor. My mom had something similar and apparently they couldn’t find the solution, so my dad has written them off in his situation as well. It is so frustrating, especially as a daughter who is looking for solutions and who encourages him to go to the doctor just to be shot down, about 15 minutes ago.

Walking away, with tears in my eyes, I said in Spanish, “I’m going into medicine…for nothing.”  And that’s when I realized that even if I did become a physician assistant, He would probably never let me help him. Stubborn old man.

I’m a little lost and angry. I used to cry in prayer asking to give me enough time to get my license and let me take care of my parents before they were called to the Lord’s presence. Now I don’t know what to expect. I know my life is not my own, and my will is the Lord’s, but it still makes me feel resentment in my heart to think my father could die without allowing me to help him, for whatever his reasons may be. What’s worse is he keeps just ending the conversation with, “besides, I’m old. I’m going to die soon anyway.” Seriously?

In the back of my head, however, I feel that I can forgive him if that were the case. I pray it will not be, and I am still willing to fight against his thought process, but how can I know what God has planned?

But still, despite my turmoil, I feel deep down inside that with whatever God has in store, my soul will eventually find contentment. Despite my troubled heart, peace will come. I feel like that’s the promise of Jesus: hope. And Hope does not disappoint us.

But I still feel like crying… 😦