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Torn Ligament Father Cry

Torn Ligament Father Cry

In 2001 after I had torn a ligament in my left ankle my mother and father took me to see a specialist doctor of some sort, he had an x-ray machine that could take photos without having to move the foot around constantly. I don't know what the findings were, but after the x-rays when all three of us were in the room the doctor joined to explain them to where my father started to drop a few tears. When the doctor asked "are you ok?" he responded "Yes, I'm just concerned about my son." To this day I have no idea the last damage of the torn ligament I just passively remember my general practitioner that I would need a cane when I get older, and I could never be in that realm of obese, something that is pretty easy for me. Anyways my father shedding a tear or two just reflects that things aren't always black and white. He and my mother tortured me, but in that moment he cared about me enough for it to impact his emotions. This was very similar to when Bryce sat in the hospital room with me in 2018 and I told the doctor in front of him that I had a box knife from work with a fresh blade that I was going to use. I looked over and he shed one tear, a fake one at that, but harken back to my father, he truly cared at that point in our lives enough to cry.

Another thing my father did in 2001 when I was 8 years old and had a support cast on my left ankle and up the calf was I had begun to get dirty and likely smelled bad because I hadn't bathed or showered since the accident. What eventually happened was through my mother's solution to have me wear a swim suit in the bathtub with my left leg hanging over the edge so the cast wouldn't get wet. My parents were worried that something could happen and I wouldn't be able to get out of the tub, so my father agreed that out of privacy he would sit with his back to the bathtub as I cleaned myself. My father was 43 years old at the time, and that act of talking to me with the upmost respect to my privacy is a memory that emphasizes that there was at least some degree of care. This was also before my father had had many mental breakdowns and was a character of respect to a degree so it was a different Jonathan than I had come to know, and as I describe throughout this life story.