After an accident left me disabled and confined to a wheelchair, my father refused to take on the responsibility of caring for me. However, he then learns a valuable lesson.
When I was 19, a car hit me on my way to work. The noise of screeching tires, the cries, and the sudden darkness felt like the world was falling apart. When I regained consciousness, I heard voices telling me that I would never walk again.
I kept calling out for my father, but he didn’t arrive until three days later. When he finally came, he looked worse than I had imagined, and it was clear he had been drinking while I was struggling to stay alive.
My mother passed away from breast cancer when I was twelve years old. I recall her as a kind, exhausted woman who worked to put food on the table as my father drained his income, constantly flinching at his harsh remarks.
He instructed me to start a part-time job as soon as I turned 14 to contribute to the household expenses. By the time I was 16, I had left school and taken on a full-time job to provide for both of us.
However, my father’s eyes were devoid of both thanks and sympathy when he finally came to visit me at the hospital. The doctor said that there had been tremendous compression and bruising, even though my spine had not been severed.
I would probably spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, but I could very well regain the ability to walk. And my father left at that point. “She’s over eighteen, isn’t she?” he asked the doctor. Isn’t she an adult? I am no longer responsible for her. You take her.
I recall my father’s eyes running over my lifeless legs and my doctor’s appalled reaction. “Pointless! Just as useless as your mother!”
For the following six years, those were the last words I would hear from Dad. I was moved to a rehabilitation facility a short time later, where I had the good fortune to be paired with a therapist by the name of Carol Hanson.
Love, not a biological tie or a common ancestry, is the foundation of a family.
She was an elderly, maternal woman who took me under her wing right away. Carol was incredibly demanding and loving at the same time. She helped me become well over the course of the following year, something I never thought was possible.
Carol and I both sobbed uncontrollably the day I took my first step and stood up on my own two feet. It was just the start, and I put in even more effort over the following few months before I was officially declared healthy.
For me, it was a moment of mixed emotions. Even though my wounds had healed and I could walk normally again, I was still afraid. I had no family and nowhere to go. I felt completely alone.
I was crying when Carol came in. She wrapped her arms around me as she sat next to me on the bed. “Jenny,” she told me, “it’s okay to feel afraid. You are beginning a new chapter in your life.
Remembering other patients departing with their loved ones at their sides, I muttered, “I have no one, and nowhere to go,” “I’m alone.”
“No you’re not,” Carol stated forcefully, “I’ve been meaning to discuss that with you. Do you want to live with me? Just till you’re able to organize your life once more.”
I did, and it was beautiful. Because Carol and I got along so well, she gave me my own room, which was the most gorgeous room I had ever seen. “It was my daughter’s,” Carol said, her eyes welling with sorrow. “I lost her like you lost your mother.”
When I walked down for breakfast, I noticed some interesting posters from the local high school offering night programs for people who wanted to finish their secondary education. The following day, I began searching for jobs on Carol’s computer.
“I think,” Carol replied with conviction, “that you need to go back to school so you can go back to college.”
My jaw fell open. “A university? I’m unable to pay for college. I let out a gasp. “Carol, I don’t have a cent to my name and no way to support myself if I don’t get a job, and quickly.”
“No, Jenny, you can’t afford not to go to college,” Carol said, shaking her head. Listen, I’ll give you the money, and you’ll repay me after you graduate—just like a bank student loan.”
In any case, she persuaded me to do it, and I promptly applied to the nearby college and finished the high school requirements. I’ll confess that Carol’s example motivated me to pursue a career in nursing, and I received a summa cum laude degree four years later.
I began my career at a nearby hospital and eventually became an expert in neonatal care. I was interviewed by a television crew one day while they were doing a news report about a pair of identical triplets.
I was somewhat famous for a spell, but the publicity brought me an unwelcome guest. I was shocked to see my father standing there when the doorbell rang and I answered it.
He smelled of alcohol and perspiration, and he looked awful, like a bum. He said, “Jenny, my sweet baby girl!” and extended his hands. “I’ve finally found you again.”
“Found me again?” I asked clearly, “You abandoned me in the hospital because I was useless, remember, like my mother?”
He forced a couple of tears out. Sobbing, “Oh my baby,” he said. “I apologize; I was shocked and
afraid. Now you wouldn’t turn your father away? I haven’t been feeling well.
I told him icily, “You look fine to me,” but my trained eye had already picked up on the yellow tint in his eyes and complexion. He had a liver condition of some sort, most likely brought on by his drinking.
He walked slowly. “I’m ill, Jenny, and your father is in dire need of you…He licked his lips thirstily and said, “And.” “And I have no money for food, darling, therefore I’m broke.”Are you sure you won’t leave your father without food?”
“As if you abandoned me to my destiny? In a wheelchair and helpless? ‘DADDY,’ guess what I am. Leave.” I walked back into the lounge after slamming the door in his face.
Carol grinned as she glanced up at me. “Who was that, Jenny?”
“Oh, just some man selling something!” I went to the couch, took a seat next to Carol, and gave her a tight hug. Carol gave me a hug in return.
“Jenny,” she began, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Do you think I could adopt you? Become your mother? since you are already my daughter in my heart.”
I broke down in tears and couldn’t stop. After being cursed with a horrible upbringing, I was fortunate enough to grow up in a loving environment with a parent who loved me.
What does this narrative teach us?
- Love, not a biological ties or shared DNA, is the foundation of a family.
- As Jenny’s father found out, you get what you give.
Talk to your friends about this article. It could inspire them and make their day.
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