This week is getting more difficult by the day.
My father is getting sicker; now they think he has some pneumonia. This morning, his heart rate shot up and he had what he called back pains; immediately his room was full of doctors and nurses, who worked on him for about an hour to stabilize him.
They said then that it was either a heart attack or a pulmonary embolus; by the end of the afternoon, the tests were beginning to show evidence of a heart attack.
He's lying there in between consciousness and a light dream state. He has trouble breathing and has an oxygen mask. He has more wires going in and out of him than my computer.
If he survives this, he still has chemotherapy for lymphoma to look forward to.. if the doctors think he can withstand it. There's also the issue of the still undetermined "something" in the lung.
One of the residents went through the "do you really want us to use extreme measures to resuscitate you if you get worse" speech. I don't know if he grasped it all but he nodded at everything she said. When they asked me, I said it was his decision; I agree to not use extreme measures if that's what he wants.
I don't want to see him suffering any more.
He hasn't been in severe pain but he's been uncomfortable. The scans and tests are difficult for him. Chemotherapy would be, too. If he can do it, and wants to do it, good. If not, I'm prepared to let him go.
Stepmom is of course a mess; Stepsis was crying as well. My father looked at them and asked, "Why are they crying?" I shrugged and said, "You married a crying family."
Not that I don't cry but at times like this I mostly feel numb.