Memories of My Dad at the Ronald McDonald House

It's funny what will make me think of my Dad. I am watching an episode of that 19 Kids and Counting and they are all staying at a rental home in Little Rock as the youngest child has been in the hospital for months. It reminded me of how when Bobby got his bone marrow transplant in January of 1987 in New York City, my parents made the decision that we would all go down together and stay for six weeks. Bobby's prognosis wasn't good and in fact, he was the only recipient to survive what at the time was a trial run. Something I haven't really thought about much in many years, but I'm having a vivid recall.

Mom spent almost every minute of every day and night in Bobby's hospital room and my Dad also spent a fair amount of time, leaving Carolyn to look after Sarah and me to look after myself. Days blended as I didn't leave often, mostly reading books and wandering the halls, occasionally sitting in the front office helping out. But in the evenings my Dad was around. First time in my life I was allowed to stay up past midnight as Dad was in charge! Most of the house was adults and a few outpatient kids...the few kids I met my age were usually only there for a few days so I didn't have many people to talk to. The house would rent movies at our request and my Dad would sit with me in the living room late at night watching things like Mad Max and the Thunderdome and A Chorus Line. He would do laundry in the basement, wandering in and out as I read books to check on me. He was a Dad, so he didn't cook three course meals or anything, but he would order us burgers from our favorite place, Gracie's. We had never had an Atari at home, but I learned how to play Ms. Pac-Man with my Dad in the kitchen of the RMH. To this day, I am still pretty good.

He was the only one who never constantly questioned as to why I wasn't expressing my feelings or crying all the time. I was eleven and not particularly talkative about emotions. My Mom and Carolyn, who I now realize are similar, would always ask how I was feeling. There were several times where Sissy even called me a robot. But my Dad never harassed me or asked me to talk about feelings. At a time when I felt very alone, my Dad was there for me. No, he didn't structure my schoolwork like Mom wanted him to or made sure I showered everyday like Mom(hey, I was just 11), but he kept me company when he could. And a couple of times he took me to see Bobby and helped me get all suited up and sterilized when I asked to go. He didn't push me...man, I miss him right now.