Waiting and (Cautiously) Hoping. (Cautiously) Hoping and Waiting.
Thursday, October 20 will mark one month since my father entered the hospital.
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.