Update: Sunday, January 25

This weekend has been the worst yet. Danny came up again (two weekends in a row--he's amazing) and brought Dad's brother, my uncle Fred, with him. It had been six days since Danny had seen Dad, and he said that this was the most marked change yet. He has gone downhill so severely, so quickly, that it's difficult to even describe it. He is barely able to get out of bed. I daresay, if things continue to progress at this rate, that he will be completely bedridden before long.

The biggest development is that Dad went on oxygen on Friday, and that came with its own set of complications. He feels as if he can't breathe (and I am betting that is because of the fluid buildup in his abdomen. It's the same thing that happens to us ladies during pregnancy, when it's difficult to get a good breath in the later stages, because the baby is pressing up against your lungs). As a result, the hospice nurses started him on morphine--not because he is in any pain (blessedly), but because it is supposed to help with the feeling of oxygen deprivation. End result: Dad gone loopy. He is very incoherent and doesn't know what is what. He is completely confused, can't keep things straight, doesn't have a good sense of time, and can't adequately explain what he is thinking. So no more morphine for him. And it really wasn't helping anyway. Now we just have to wait for it to get out of his system and make sure that it's really the morphine that is affecting his mental faculties. If, after a few days, he is still acting loopy, then we may have a different problem altogether.

He said to me yesterday, "I'm scared." Let me tell you, no matter how old you are, there are few things in this life worse than hearing your father tell you he is scared. So I asked him why, and he said that it was because he couldn't breathe and one of his greatest fears has always been suffocation. Yes, I lost it right then and there. It was a horrible thing. So in addition to the problems caused by the morphine, we still have the original issue of his "oxygen hunger," as they call it, and the anxiety that that is causing. We are giving him Ativan for the anxiety, but I'm not sure how much effect it is having.

Putting aside, for a moment, the mental issues, his physical condition isn't much better. He has deteriorated more quickly than I ever could have thought possible, and none of it makes sense to us. He has continually been told that his liver continues to function well, so if that is the case, then why have things gone downhill so quickly? Has the cancer spread? Is it just from weakness because he can't eat much? Is it the fluid buildup in his abdomen? We don't know, and that's one of the (only) bad things about Hospice--their sole mission is making the patient comfortable and supporting the family. Once you call them in, further testing is pretty much out the window.

Mom did finally break down tonight, and she sobbed for a good bit while I was there. I was very glad to be able to take over for a few minutes so that she could do what she needed to do. She is exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She desperately needs some relief, because we are at the point where Dad cannot be left alone, and there's only so much I can do, with my kids and my job. Laura has been a Godsend, picking up the slack left and right, watching over my grandmother, coming to be with Dad, and so forth. But something is going to have to give at some point.

There is so much more to write, but I honestly do not have the mental energy needed at this point to do so. I'm sure you can get the gist of it. Things are bleak, and everyone is dragging right now. Please pray for renewed strength and energy for our family. Please pray for peace for my father, that he can find relief from the feeling that he can't breathe.