COVID, Grief and Empathy

I sprayed my favorite perfume as I was getting ready for work. Acqua di Gioia. Smells fantastic! But then I noticed that I didn’t smell anything. I lifted the bottle near my nose and nothing. Noooooooooo. I knew then that I had COVID. I went to the refrigerator and tried to taste hot sauce….. NOTHING. Three weeks later, I still cannot smell or taste anything. I started to get a little whiny the other day because all I wanted to do was eat tacos, chips and salsa and drink a margarita. I wanted to enjoy some comfort food in the midst of my stress. Mid-whine, I was hit with a grief attack.

You see…my dad was diagnosed with throat cancer 18 years ago. He was 43 years old and underwent aggressive treatment to stop the cancer. Well, the radiation treatment actually burned his saliva glands. He could no longer eat food by mouth. He underwent surgery to have a feeding tube placed permanently. I remember eating in my car alone because I didn’t want to bring food around him. The smells and the sight of food was depressing for him. He would always encourage me to eat but I knew that it was so hard to sit there and watch us, while he prepared an Ensure drink to put into his feeding tube.

I knew it was hard for him but I always focused on my guilt towards the situation. I was 19 and feeling like it was so hard for ME. I had to sneak around with food and feel the guilt. I had to have a sick dad. I was suffering watching him deteriorate. Why me???

Now as an almost 37 year old woman, I feel the empathy for my father. Dad, I am so sorry that you went through all that pain and I didn’t understand. I didn’t fully grasp all that you were losing, while fighting the hardest fight of your life. The comfort of your cappuccino in the morning or the steak and baked potatoes we always had for Sunday dinner or Little Debbie brownies in our ice cream sundaes. The little things we take for granted

Savor that sip of coffee, enjoy that laughter over a glass of wine, enjoy all the little things because they truly make up the big picture of what matters in this life.

in Memory of David Werth. 1960-2008 💙

My dad, David Werth. A fighter until the end. RIP Dad. 💙