On Thursday the 20th, my father will have been in the hospital for a month.
It’s weird how the mind adapts to new routines. For the past month, I’ve been at the hospital nearly every day. The image of my father in a hospital bed with tons of wires attached to him is no longer shocking, it’s normal. The smell of the ICU is stuck in my nose.
My family and I have talked to more doctors and nurses than I can count. There are days when I can’t even remember what day it is.
The crazy thing is, it doesn’t look like this will be over anytime soon. My father is in critical condition, and is progressing very, very slowly. On Saturday, the doctors said it would be a “miracle” if he pulls through this. On Sunday, they seemed more optimistic. One doctor said that we should be “cautiously hopeful.” That all we can do is wait, and hope that he comes around.
So that’s what we’re doing: waiting and hoping.
On a completely unrelated note, I had an ultrasound yesterday.
In the middle of the test, the ultrasound tech actually asked, “this surgeon who did your biopsy last year, did he come highly recommended to you?”
Every doctor I’ve talked to seems completely baffled by what happened to me.
The ultrasound confirmed that the lump is still there- same size and everything. The doctor gave me two options:
- Leave it alone and keep coming back for ultrasounds
- Get a Core Needle Biopsy
I feel like I’m back in the exact same place as I was when I wrote this post. Since there’s nothing I can do about it, however, I chose the latter. This Friday, I will go in for the core needle biopsy. When I get the results from that, it’s likely that I’ll have to have another surgery.
At this point, even though I am scared about Friday, I am much more concerned with my father’s condition.
Please, please keep my father in your thoughts.