The painful days

Life is not easy. Sometime in 2011 my dad got sick. He was diagnosed to be with prostate organs.
My dad lived in Harare with my elder sister. My sister was employed and therefore she could not take care of dad. I was called from Bulawayo to go to Harare to take care of him.
This was the most difficult part of life. I had to assist him to do everything including eating, washing and bathing.
Every day I had to take him to the hospital for medication. There was little progress and the hospital kept postponing the operation due to the unavailability of staff.
Every day I would cry myself to sleep.
I cried a lot thinking that my dad was dying. I said to myself, ‘God why me’, what have we done to deserve all this.”
One day I met another lady at the hospital. She advised me to go to another mission hospital outside Harare.
We organized the trip. When we got there, my father was attended to immediately. After the operation he was discharged from the hospital.
As the situation had improved, I decided to get back to my husband in Bulawayo. After spending a few days in Bulawayo, I got a call that I should get back to Harare because my sister was not feeling well. I rushed back to Harare and went straight to the hospital. When I got there I was shocked by what I saw. My sister was in agony because of the headache.
She passed away soon after my arrival and this was too much for me. This coming after the challenge I had faced in taking care of my father made me to realize that in times of crisis, one has to be strong.