So I've been back in Chicago for four days now. I've seen my office and I've seen the hospital. I go back and fourth. There are seven hours in between spent tossing and turning in Katie's spare bedroom. I'm very grateful I have a bed to sleep in as opposed to a couch.
There is a HUGE amount of sadness and unknown. My dad has been back in the hospital for about 3 weeks. He's tiny and in pain. He began using oxygen yesterday to help with his shortness of breath. He is terrified and there's nothing I can do help him. I feel so hopeless and horrible. He told me yesterday that it's just not the same now that I don't live here anymore. Without him intending to, he made me feel like I'm to blame. I understand what he means, I just feel guilty.
I take the night shift now at the hospital with him. I go straight from work and stay with him until he basically kicks me out. We're starting to get the routine down. He'll go through about three rounds of trying to finish his dinner, we'll watch some tv, and we'll talk. I also know how he likes his bedside table set up. Everything has it's place and it changes depending on the time of night. He jokes that he's a little OCD. When he get's worried that I'm getting scared he just starts to smile at me. I smile back and tell him I'm fine, just worried about him.