Dad has been hit with a bad chest cold, fever, exhaustion; he is weak in the knees. After trying home remedies all day yesterday, Claire and I bundled him up and took him to the doctor this afternoon.
Everything with Dad is turtle-paced. It took forty-five minutes to get him out the door and into the car. I drove slowly through the neighborhood, waiting for him to fasten his seat belt.
"Need some help with that, Dad?"
Silence.
Then, click.
"Accomplishment," he whispered.
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