Thursday, April 18, 2013

My dad is in the hospital. He came to the hospital to get some blood cuz his doctors told him he was really anemic but it turns out he's been having some abdominal swelling. Turns out he's got a peritoneal bleed and they're keeping him over night to make sure it goes away and doesn't become more serious. I came down to spend some time with him and to comfort myself...

That was a couple of days ago. I've been trying to go about my life (found my dress for the Dame-Toolmaker wedding; date with Capt Jack), but I've been to the hospital every day since Tuesday. If he isn't discharged tomorrow, I'll probably be back then too.

My routine is the same: come by, stick around for a couple hours (it's hard to stay for more than 2), ask the nurse's station if they will validate me- I mean my parking (the nurses always laugh and tell me I look nice); then I head out to the parking garage and stop to cry on the corner where I know so many have done. I guess I feel some comfort in knowing I am one of a multitude who stop at that corner to breakdown.

The hardest part about all this is not being able to do anything to help except show up. So, having an option, I'm going to exercise it with gusto and commitment, even though it's kinda scary being here and seeing my dad in this condition.

The next worst part: he looks like a skeleton. His once-robust head of hair has been winnowed down to gossamer strands and his beard is shockingly white. I can see his ribs through the skin on his back.

He's not dying right now. It's just an annoying complication of the process of trying to defeat death. When this all started I asked what the survival rate was for this kind of cancer and g-d met me with the answer of "100%". Whatever happens will be what happens, but I'm trusting g-d on this one, even if it takes a while and looks bleak at times.

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