My dad got worse.  And then he got better.  And then he got slightly worse again.  I'm going to visit him tonight  so I'll have a better idea of where he is.

He's had to have someone with him 24/7 because of the picking and fidgeting.  He pulls off his o2 and we do what we can to keep him from his iv.

But he's doing better.

And I'm so tired of talking and thinking and worrying about this.

My Dad is so sick.

He's got an infection (they think).  Fever.  Knee pain.  Blood clots in his lungs.  He's delirious and hallucinating.

I am doing my best to cope.  I ugly cried for an hour the other day.  Heaving and braying sobs.  I recovered with sleep and swimming.

But goddamn it is hard.  It's so hard to see my clever and witty father not be able to follow the conversation because he's distracted by the giant head in the doorway.  Because he's trying to figure out how many spiders the nurse slipped into his water.  Because his bird's nest has too much shit in it.

He's so weak.  He can't stand.

The doctors were really attentive at first.  But now... I mean, give me some damn answers.  I got in their face the other day so they ordered a ct of his head, but that's not going to show shit.

He might be transfered today to a more local hospital, which would be nice. I'm hoping the nurses would actually come when requested so he could take a damn pee.

I'm so so so worried that my dad isn't going to come back all the way.  It's so terrifying.

So it's a little funny.  This morning, Gentleman Caller was making a joke about how it had been like a week since I cried last.  I corrected him and said it had been MUCH longer than that and I actually sorta wanted to cry just to get all the extra emotional crap out.  I sorta wish I hadn't said that.

Lunch today was a tea party with a couple girls from work.  I made cranberry scones with orange marmalade and they were delicious.  We also had cucumber sandwiches and chicken salad.  It was very high class.  Minus the part where it was crashed by a fella coworker to whom I then explained what a placenta was.  High class I tell ya.

When we were done with lunch, I checked my phone and saw there were a large amount of text messages saying that my dad was having some surgery and getting a central line put in for antibiotics.  Slightly panicked I called my sister for an explanation.   But that's about it.  They think his knee is infected from surgery he had 5 weeks ago so they're doing what they can to take care of it.

But I am freaked the fuck out.

I am not good with change or surprises.  It takes me a long time to get used to the idea of something new.  I was surprised with a new softball bat last summer and it was about halfway through the party that I realized it was ok to be happy and like what was going on.  So the more I talk about what is going on, the more I'm used to it and actually it helps distance myself from the problem.  Maybe that's why I wanted to cry this morning.  Too much distance.

Well this was real and immediate.  So I cried.  At work.  Right before an office-wide meeting about health updates regarding my boss who is also in the hospital.

Immediately I wanted to leave and go to the hospital.  But there isn't anything I can do and I know that.  I have swimming tonight and I don't want to miss that.  But I also want to be there for my Dad anyway I can.  It's not like me being there is going to do anything and I know that.  But that's not the point.  My sister told me to stay at work, go swimming and then if I still felt like I needed to, I could go stay at my parent's tonight.  And I might do that.

Anyway, that's the plan now.  And breathing exercises.  Lots of breathing exercises.