Father's Day

I was greeted in bed this morning. It was Father's Day in Australia. With a heavy head, I tried to response but with a badly swollen uvula, it seemed like a bad idea. So I licked my dry lips and caressed Albany's head on my chest instead. At least I still have her. We would spend one quiet Sunday together and visit the hospital to terminate our pregnancy the next day. I didn't know how I was suppose to feel this Father's Day.

I didn't feel good using the word terminate. It was the GP who first brought that up when he referred us to some private "termination clinic" in Midland. I simply stated expressionlessly at him and headed for home quietly when our conservation ended. Instead of providing emotional support for Jen, I brooded for at least a fortnight. I didn't want to make decisions anymore. I had been mentally drained these days. Being far from my physical top form didn't help matters. Jen had to do the calls, ask questions and make arrangements herself. Such strength. What can I do without her. 

She later informed me the hospital would be charging us $700 if our private health insurance did not cover this aspect of medical need. Both of us agreed the last thing we wanted to do was to find out. It was those kind of situation where the lesser spoke about it, the better. All we knew that we wanted to put our fates to the hands of King Edward Hospital, which dealt with Albany's tricky birth with class. As a bonus, our bills would be covered under Medicare.

One may argue healthcare in Australia is by no means free. The government make us choose between getting private health insurance or pay a levy for Medicare. It works out that we have upfront costs even we haven't use any medical service. Clearly, that is money down the drain for lucky folks in a pink of health for the entire year but when it comes to moments of need, I can't describe in words the relief of not worrying about medical fees. For my case, from the procedures of detecting to dissecting my cancer tumor, I did not pay a single cent out of my pocket. For Jen's case, we paid nothing for endless of visits to the GP as well as the blood tests and ultrasound scans.

With a heavy heart, Father's Day will be brought to an end within a few hours. My only hope is that my wife comes out safe and sound the next day. If a Father is entitled of a good solid wish, let this be it. That is all I ask for.


  1. My condolences. Hope the procedure went as "smoothly" as possible, and everyone is fine at home. Take care!

  2. My tears flow as I read this.
    Hope you will witness rainbow after the rain. The tinge in your heart will still be there but maybe that's life