Opinion: A daughter’s plea: Doctors must stop shirking palliative care
The first time I lost my dad was in 2010, just a few weeks after his 62nd birthday. On a Sunday morning in December, he called me from his local emergency room in Pennsylvania. His speech was slurred and, as my heart pounded with dread, I knew immediately what he was about to tell me. He had suffered a stroke.
The stroke made it difficult for him to speak clearly, use his dominant hand, remember new information, and think critically. In an instant, I lost the precious parts of my dad that connected us. He was no longer the parent who could give me advice when I was feeling down, tell me a funny story about his day, or debate with me for an hour about the current political climate. He was simpler now, often dependent on go-to phrases such as “We’ll see” and “I’m OK” during conversations. He had survived the stroke, yet I missed him terribly.
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