81. Aiyana

Chapter eighty-one

Aiyana

Thursday, February 22, 2024

M y period is almost over, and for the first time in years, it's not the most painful thing my body's had to go through. My heart is being torn apart every day.

Dad is starting to decline a little more each day, unable to speak in full sentences now and tiring much more easily.

My stomach dropped to my fucking toes the other day when he fell asleep during Kas's game. That has never happened in all the years I've known my father, and it was the first clear sign that he really won't get better without a transplant.

I'm trying to remain hopeful, and Kat does her best to try and boost my mood and quiet my worrying mind, but nothing seems to truly help.

The entire community now knows about my father's condition. Tribal members, particularly the elders, have come to pray around him and perform healing rituals.

Yesterday, Kat was able to talk the transplant surgeon into allowing my father to leave the hospital for the day to perform a sacred healing ritual with the healers. Usually, the person with the illness will enter a sweat lodge, which is essentially an outdoor sauna with hot stones, while the healers say prayers and help them connect spiritually to our ancestors and pull energy from nature. With his lungs in their current condition, a sweat lodge would not be healthy even though my father argued otherwise, or tried to. He believes the ancestors will protect and heal him if he does the ritual, but one of the younger healers advised that the ancestors want him to have faith, but they don't want him to deliberately do something that we know would be harmful.

It was nice to hear that perspective, and I felt a little less horrible knowing Kat would be there with him. She offered to take the day off from work to oversee the ritual and act as his medical liaison if anything were to happen.

When I went in to see him this morning before work, he seemed to be in much better spirits, but he was still having difficulty speaking. I've never tapped into my spirituality quite as much as I've been these last couple of weeks. I find myself saying prayers and buying crystals, herbs, and other medicinal plants to bring to his room. He has a growing pile of items from our friends in the community who bring him things to help him feel more connected with the elements.

Several of our friends and family from North Carolina and Georgia have also come to see him, and the attention and community have helped keep him going.

I get out of the shower and dry off, fighting the urge to call Kas just to hear his voice. I've been avoiding him because he's the only person who manages to break down my walls time and time again. And right now, I need those walls built as high and strong as possible if I'm going to have any chance at recovering from the fallout if my dad doesn't get this damn transplant.

I braid my hair before changing into one of Kas's oversized shirts and climbing in under the covers. My phone vibrates with a text, and I don't have to check to know who it's from.

Every night since I got back to Philly has been the same thing. A goodnight text from Kas that sets off a swarm of butterflies in my gut. But recently, I've just felt guilt for keeping him at arm's length with no explanation in sight.

Kas

Goodnight my little viper 3

Goodnight Kas.