Would it kill you to show a little compassion?

Dad is finally out of the hospital. It's been a long dismal week. Probably the most spectacular weather of the year and we were holed up in a miserable little hospital room listening to CNN and the buzzer going off at the nurses station over and over and over because no one was there to answer it. I spent the week staring out the fourth floor window at a poor dog across the highway, tied to a short chain at the end of an asphalt driveway. It paced back and forth all week in the hot sun waiting for someone to come play with him. On the fourth day someone came. The dog was ecstatic! It raced around as far as its short chain would allow. It jumped in the air and wiggled in excitement. The visitor never touched the dog, always staying just out of reach. And then he left. After two minutes. And the dog paced and waited again.

The same thing was happening in the hospital. The patients leaning on the call button for help and no one answering. Dad cut through the lines that restricted his movement. No one came.
Every night when I drove Mom home it was the same thing. People calling to see how Dad was and make sure Mom was holding up ok. Nobody called Dad at the hospital. Nobody sent him a freaking card. The day I left the neighbours were walking down the lane to visit, a bouquet of old fashioned roses in hand. But nothing from family. That really pisses me off.