I just spent the better part of the day at the hospital with my dad. He's been in since last Saturday. This is his sixth hospital stay since May. The cancer has opened the door to a reoccuring bout of pneumonia. He can't fucking shake it. Every other time, he's been motivated to get out as soon as possible...this time, it feels like he has given up. He hasn't said that, and every single time he's questioned about it, he denies it...but his actions (or lack thereof) are speaking very loudly right now. He refuses to do anything to help himself. He gives hospital staff the answers that he thinks will get them out of his room the fastest. Once they are gone, he ignores us and goes back to sleep. We had a faint glimmer of hope this evening...but it faded quickly. I'm trying to think good thoughts and stay positive, but it's not easy. I have to remind myself to never give up...at least not until he tells us that he's ready to go. This isn't how he's supposed to leave the world...fighting dragons on the rim of a volcano, maybe...but not like this. Not withering away in a hospital bed.
