The Daily - Back to School 2020
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Milo Nguyen @silverkoolaid
Milo Nguyen @silerkoolaid
Why I decided to ruin my own social life By McKenna Zacher The Daily In early July, my family went on a camping trip to Eastern Washington. It was the first time we were able to get away from home since March and we were excited to have a change of scenery and get outdoors. My brother and I stayed for a few days but drove home a week before my parents ended their trip. The week without my parents went well; we chugged away at our work and kept the house in order. But that quickly changed. The day my parents were set to be home, I got a call. It was from my mom. From the tears I heard through the phone, I immediately knew something was wrong. I assumed something happened to one of our dogs, who are notoriously clumsy and mischievous. But that wasn’t it. All too soon, I was thrust back to a moment in November. I was in my dorm, sleeping. My first round of midterms of my freshman year was quickly approaching and I needed all the energy I could get. My slumber was interrupted by a call. I answered the call, annoyed that I was awoken so
early. That annoyance quickly changed as my mom spoke. “Hi, honey. Everything is OK, but your dad is in the hospital,” she said. What? What happened? Did he get into a car crash? Did he fall? My worries about midterms quickly melted away and the worry shifted to a new reality — a reality that was much worse. My dad had kidney failure and his body went into shock. Thankfully, my mom found him on the floor and was able to get him to the hospital before it was too late (a timeline that was uncomfortably close and hard to think about). He was stable, in the intensive care unit, and tests were showing that the road to recovery was going to be long and hard. I couldn’t help but feel useless. I wasn’t home, and I hadn’t been in a long time. Should I skip midterms and go home? When was the last time I had told him I loved him? I couldn’t help but constantly mull over these anxious thoughts. The next day, I took the train home. I saw my dad, weak and small, in the hospital for the first time in what would be a monthlong stay. That November
was the scariest time of my life, and it didn’t help that I was apart from my family during it. My mom’s call in July seemed immediately worse. I was home this time; they were not. Through tears, my mom explained that while they were driving home, something happened to my dad. It wasn’t clear what it was. As soon as she called me to let me know, she hung up. Immediately, I wanted to drive to the hospital and be able to see my dad — earlier than the last time. But I couldn’t. Not just because he was in Yakima, three hours away, but because of the pandemic. No one could see him. Instead, he was alone. In the following days, we found out what happened. My dad had had a seizure and a heart attack. He was alone and in pain, but no one could be there to comfort him. My dad finally came home after a week alone in the hospital halfway across the state. He was extremely weak, and it was clear that if COVID wasn’t taking over the health care system and using up resources and beds,
