So this past week as a whole has been average for dad. He has had a few good days, and a few bad. The bad being that he just didn’t feel well and he slept a lot. He is having a harder time talking these days. He has to take a breath after each word or two. He also seems to be quieter, which doesn’t necessarily mean he is slowly withdrawing from us, but is just due to his difficulty with conversation. I don’t call him anymore at night to wish him goodnight… I don’t know if that bothers him, but I do call him every morning. That bothers me that I don’t call him at night anymore. I just don’t want to make it difficult on him, and I would imagine he’s pretty tired at night anyway.
Meredith, from hospice, came over Tuesday. She stayed for a good hour or so. She wanted to know how we were doing with things. We talk so candidly about things when she comes over. My grandmother, dad’s mom, is staying with them and she made a comment that she wished Meredith wouldn’t talk about dying with dad. I held my tongue for the most part, but I did tell her that it was good for dad to talk about that and what his feelings are. I think the idea of a faith healing is hanging to heavily over everyone and no one knows for sure what that will look like when things finally complete. So to talk about dying with dad is to accept that he is dying and to deny that a faith healing might occur. I can’t accept that dad is going to be healed. I look at this cancer and I see that it has progressed too far and if a faith healing does occur, then that will be like raising Lazarus from the dead. For now I accept and I wait. Let them have hope wherever they may find it.
Dad can’t laugh. He can’t belch, or cough or even clear his throat. He has a hard time swallowing. That just doesn’t seem real to me.
