Need = a crystal ball.
The last time I saw Dad, he was watching TV. Drowsy and weak, but still able make a comment about his football team winning 5-1, force a weak smile and eat a few mouthfuls of lunch.
I had not seen him for 2 days. Friday I had medical appointments myself and yesterday I was getting ready to go in when mum confessed she would like some time alone with him, so I stayed home instead. Mum did report that he was very tired yesterday, which I took as normal, some days he is awake for a couple of hours and others he is zonked out all day.
Forward to this afternoon. Walking into that ward was like a slap in the face. He lay propped up by the nurses with everything from the waist up leaning heavily to the right, his head lolloping almost over the side of the raised bed sides. His colour grey, every bone in his face noticeably more prominent than only 72 hours before, (which believe me are VERY prominent), and all he could do was grunt an acknowledgement when we kissed him hello and pull away from me and wince when I lightly held his sore and infected hand.
I've seen this before, it affects him as Jekyll and Hyde, but it doesn't get any easier, plus, each time he looks more and more horrendous. After an hour of him not able to make an effort to lift his head or open his eyes I enquired how long he had been like this. Mum had confirmed he was like this yesterday but thought it was a one off, the nurses confirmed he was like it the day before also, so this was the 3rd day and it just doesn't sit well with me.
I feel like we are going round in circles. He isn't well enough to come home, even with carers 4 times a day, he can't go to the hospice whilst antibiotics and he isn't getting the encouragement and attention he needs to drink, eat and gain back some strength at the hospital.
I don't know if he won't recover from this, I don't know if he will bounce back as he has before and astound everyone. I don't know if this chronic state is the cancer taking more of his life, sprinting for the finish line, OR a mixture of powerful antibiotics and lack of proper deep sleep. I don't know if I want him to die soon rather than be like this any longer OR to live and fight because that's he wants to do.
This time in 2 weeks will we be planning his funeral? Or, will we be sat in armchairs at his place watching shark documentaries together?
I wish I knew. I desperately wish I knew.
