This, after a phone call to South Africa to hear how my dad's day was.
My mother said he had an off-day, feeling so weak he couldn't get up, being in pain, and generally sleeping the day away.
His HB-levels have dropped significantly, and that would require a blood transfusion, for which he would have to be admitted to hospital again, today.
It's a strange state to be in, this 11 000 km away from where my dad's life is slowly and painfully seeping out of him.
I feel oddly detached - it must be some kind of self-preservation-mechanism kicking in?
After bawling my eyes out, the husband offered to make me a cup of tea, and we watched a documentary on the life of Anneke Kohnke, a Jewish child whose parents were killed in the Holocaust, and who was fostered by a Protestant family where she suffered much abuse.
Eventually, she was adopted by family in the United States.
After that, we watched The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, on the life of Jean-Dominique Bauby, a French actor & writer who had locked-in-syndrome after suffering a stroke.
This movie gets me in tears every time.
Every time.
(And it's not reflective of my already-fragile state of being).
Today, I have to work again, preparing lessons for tomorrow morning.
The husband took Son#2 and #3 on a bike ride, Son#1 is stuck to the couch watching movies on TV.
It's nearly midday and I'm in my pajamas still.
It is as it should be.
Later, I'll phone my mom to check up on my dad.
Better not to think too much.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment