I arrived at the hospital today to find my Dad sitting in a chair, looking fairly bright and aiming his tissues at the dustbin.
Basketball for old people, he said.
I joined in. He won – the score was 10/2.
That doesn’t mean my Dad was good, it just means I was really bad. Together we threw about 3000 scrunched up tissues.
I imagined it would be easier with pills and suggested we replace the tissues with the tablets.
There is a place for pills Violet, he told me, and it is not in the dustbin.
He threw a pill anyway.
For a brief moment he imagined that he was a basketball player.
For a brief moment I imagined that my Dad was going to go back to being his old self. That everything would be okay.
The doc walked in and approved of our game.
Good exercise, he said.
For another brief moment I also imagined the Doc was going to ask me out. He was young, gorgeous, quite wild looking with a sexy tattoo on his forearm. I could swear he was flirting with me between ball games.
He is about twenty years too young but you know, in the same way my Dad may still play basketball for South Africa, anything is possible!
And I think this is the best thing my Dad has taught me.
That anything really is possible.
And life is short. We never know what’s in store for us.
Be brave. Do things. Make the most of every moment.
Say YES when the doctor does ask you out. Without any hesitation.