The Small Things

Today was the first good day in awhile. My dad has had some serious setbacks and the past few days have been especially hard for all of us. Each time I prepare to return to Baltimore I have increased anxiety. Worried about what he will look like, worried about what will happen during my trip, worried about returning to the hospital (makes my stomach tense up like watching too many episodes of "ER" at full volume in a small room)...and yet once I get up to his room a lot of that anxiety fades away. The first hour I usually feel sad because a small part of me foolishly hopes that I will walk into the room and find him looking like his old self....sitting there drawing or listening to talk radio and when I don't see that, I feel sad. But after that first hour I find myself feeling a little more comfortable and peaceful just to be by his side. As a result of the complications and his extreme exhaustion, my dad has been pretty unresponsive for the past few days. It is a dramatic contrast to last week when I was in Baltimore and he was so lively and writing so many messages to us. This time he hasn't been able to move much and he hadn't opened his eyes until today. This meant that the smallest movements or indications that he knew we were there suddenly became very powerful. He wiggled his fingers at me on Saturday and that made me smile. He turned his head towards me when he heard my voice yesterday. And today we got an early morning call from my mom telling us to come to the hospital because he was very alert and opening his eyes. We rushed to his room and it felt like such a gift to see his eyes, his smile, and his happiness about being surrounded by his girls.