At the hospital, my dad left me on the emergency table to rush to my sister’s work troubles. “stop being dramatic, claire needs me more right now.” but when he returned, he faced something he never imagined.
I still remember the burning sting of the antiseptic, the harsh fluorescent light overhead, and the echo of my father’s voice as he hung up on me. “Why are you making such a fuss? You’re not dying. Don’t call in a panic. Clare needs support urgently now.” I was lying on a gurney in the ER,…