Journaling because I cannot reach home to see how dad is doing...

When your dad is ridiculously sick in the hospital for a week. After having been previously sick in the hospital for over a week with the same problem. Only now it is worse. Then he is released to a nursing home. Because he is not strong enough to get better on his own at home. Then you're told he's not doing well. His roommate keeps him up night and day. Yet they say his rest is paramount. And you call over fifteen times a day. Only to get no answer on the other end of the telephone. For five days. Do you have the right to feel sad? I am sad. I have high hopes. I have faith. I just really miss my dad. I cannot remember the last time I have had a coherent conversation with him. He was asleep most of the time I was in California. The few times he was actually awake (in the hospital) he was hallucinating (toxins in his body and medications combined). Spiders in the room he was being held hostage in. Oh, there were more awake times: meal times. When I would spoon feed him. Three hours. Ten bites. Fifteen minutes to chew each bite. Followed by coercing him to swallow. Reminding him why he needs to eat. Each bite was great effort. He won't eat from my mom's hand. He can't lift his hands. Too weak. Combined with having fallen and someone helping him up by his hands, with his weak bones from the multiple myeloma cancer, it has made them swollen like a balloon about to pop (or my pregnancy feet). Really, he is getting better. It just feels like baby steps with adult step setbacks at times. When no one answers my phone calls, I think the worst. Is the worst that he would die, wherein I wouldn't hold another normal conversation? If I were to actually catch him awake upon calling, his hearing aids make phone conversation tough. Maybe the worst is something else? I am not sure what yet. My brain can't really wrap itself around it all. Today I miss him. I miss home. I miss his jokes and laughter. His sound advice. His gospel reminders. His tears. His strength. I miss his night owl tendencies... because I inherited them. I'll bet he misses it all, too. I am not ready to permanently be missing my daddy. He is  old, and I know the Plan, but I also want him to be here. Selfish? Maybe. I am sad and selfish today.

He loves Mexican food. Won't touch the fajita. Said he needed pudding, sent the nurses on a hunt to find it... came back with vanilla pudding. Dad said it needed to be chocolate. In the end, it was a chocolate ice cream cup. One bite people. He ate one bite of ice cream... then "came to," so to speak. Realized, with diabetes he shouldn't eat that... even though his IVs have all of that under control. Awww... poor daddy!

Dad, snoring like always.

Mom doesn't miss a day with him.

He's asleep, but I wanted a picture with him.

He wants me to bring my car close, to get him out of here. The nurses are keeping him here hostage, he says.

 I did bring in Halley to see him, the day before we drove home. In case it was the last time she would ever see him... there are so many factors of health going on... that there are days I just don't know...