only with fewer margaritas and more IVs. I got in at a respectable hour yesterday afternoon, and made good time in spite of a couple of accidents and construction on the way down. I found my way into the house to find my dad in bed hooked up to an IV, gasping for breath. He pretty much stayed the same way throughout the night–he wasn’t able to eat or drink much. At one point, he started crying about how much pain he is in, and how he has had so much suffering in his life already. I just held him.

It is painfully quiet here, and there’s not much to do. All of a sudden, without Grammy and Shawna around, I have all this time on my hands. And I can’t really clean, lest I “offend” anyone, or disturb my dad with the commotion. I stayed up late and just played Scrabulous and Scramble–I couldn’t really sleep because I chugged coffee to stay awake on the drive down, plus my back hurt and the radiator sounds like the room is slowly filling up with water. I’m starting to get sick–it always happens when I’m away from work.

I’m taking my dad to two appointments today: one for blood work, and another for a four-hour nuclear stress test. I don’t know how he’ll fare; in spite of not being able to breathe, my dad is still smoking. I think we will try to get him admitted prior to the surgery, otherwise he will be in no state to tolerate surgery.

It was hard sleeping last night without my girls… I can’t wait to be back home.