Which kind of waiting is worse?   Waiting to have a baby or waiting for my dad to die peacefully? Definitely the latter.  He seems to be hanging on. While he is bed ridden, his heart rate and blood pressure continue to be pretty normal on the average. No edema, no fluid in his lungs though when he coughs, there is some blood.  Dad has his lucid moments as his pain killers are specifically timed.  Though he can't see, he recognizes voices. Sometimes I think his hearing is selective, and his sense of humor still emerges every so often.   

I see how exhausted Mom is, and I ache because I am too.  Each of us is overwhelmed by and heartened by family and friends' visits and phone calls.  Each of us has a testy moment every so often, and I have to walk away and re-center myself.  This is not easy -- for Mom, for me, for Al, for our family members, for any one of Dad's friends.  

We've had family visiting from CA (Auntie Luz, Dad's cousin who's like a younger sister; Uncle Boy; Uncle Tante, Dad's brother; Auntie Eli; and my cousins Elinor and Ray).

Among family visits, Dad has also mentioned that Manong Alex (Auntie Luz's son), Lola Cion (Dad's mom) and Uncle Turing (Dad's cousin) have also visited. They're all dead.  

Dad fell from his bed yesterday.  We happened to be eating a little lunch, and all of a sudden we heard a thud.  Cousin Ray, who could easily play for some football team, went to the bedroom, and picked Dad off the floor.  Disoriented Dad had to pee and thought he could easily get up.  

Dad has never tried to get up on his own.  I was stunned for the rest of the day.  

It will be two weeks tomorrow since Dad has had his last dialysis treatment.  

[Thank you once again to everyone who prays, calls, emails or stops by.  Your thoughtful concern and compassion heartens us and provides us with courageous support.  We cannot thank you enough.]