This is the second birthday for our father since the stoke. For the first one we were still at the hospital. Coincidentally some of his friends showed up the hospital, the staff had arranged for a cake, apart from which I had picked up a cake and some decorations. So his hospital room was full of nurses, duty doctors, cleaning staff, family, friends and two cakes. He wasn’t too alert, seemed like he knew something was up, we couldn’t tell for sure if he really understood.
This January 4th was different. There was just one cake and the room was decorated by our driver under the supervision of our nurse. My sister and I put some balloons up and our physiotherapist showed up as we were getting ready to cut the cake. A dear cousin sent a bouquet of red roses. Our father looked around the room in amusement, cut the cake with enthusiasm and gave us a piece each. A Happy birthday indeed.
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