11.46

This week is passing by fast and I'm panicking a little bit because Dad still hasn't woken up and I have to go back to work on Monday.

No changes for Dad today. He's capable of breathing on his own, heart rate is steady, had to have dialysis today. I held his hand today and said, "Dad, I'm holding your left hand. Can you feel that? Can you move your fingers?" At first I thought I felt something, but then realized that it was just his pulse going faster in his fingers. I didn't think this was anything but Grannie said it actually was. A faster pulse in response to something I did is a good sign. He may not be capable of moving right now, but a faster pulse shows he's at least trying. I'm going to test this out tomorrow.

I was exhausted today. I think we all are. You wouldn't think that sitting in a hospital all day would wear you out, but it does. It emotionally sucks the life out of you. You're surrounded by sick and dying people - especially in the ICU floor. And you see their family members go through the same thing you're going through and it. just. sucks.

I think we go through cycles. I felt hopeless this morning. But as I stared at Dad and thought about everything that's been going on, I felt better. It is still hard to see him in that bed, but sometimes it gets easier. I keep myself busy by massaging his swollen hands, arms, and feet. I talk to him, I cry to him, I pray. I read and hold his hand, watch tv with him. I just... exist with him. Because I don't know how much longer I'll have him around.

When I first married Chris, I wrote my dad a letter talking about how much he means to me. I'd like to find that letter and read it to him again.

We keep hearing stories of people surviving a coma like Dad. We have to hope that can happen to Dad as well. It just might take awhile...