His eyes

This is your warning to stop now if you don't want to hear the details of this battle in my mind. I sit in this waiting room all day and think of all the things I want to write. Today I'm going to. I have the time. I feel so disconnected from whats going on. Disconnected from whats going on in my heart. His body. His eyes. I have to get it out. I can't keep it inside any longer.

One second I'm sure Dad wont be able to recall any of this when it passes. The next I'm not so sure. One second I'm sure he can't feel, I'm sure he's in another peaceful land. The next second I see the scowl on his face. He feels pain. He's sedated. What does sedated mean anyway? Can he hear us? Can he feel us beside him? Does he feel us stroking his hand? Does he want us to leave so we don't see him this way? Does he think we can make this stop? Does he think we are keeping him alive when we need to let him go? I see the tape across his face holding the breathing tubes in place. They make me want to cry. Yet, we stay strong. We walk away with hope. Then we return to check on him later. He's looking at us. His head follows us as we walk by.....

Isn't he too conscious right now? They need to turn the sedation back up. I talked quietly to Dad, trying to tell him the breathing tubes are helping him recover from the Pneumonia. Just a set back I said. He shook his head no. I had to look away. I can't look at his eyes. He started moving his feet more and more. He wiggled his hands as I held on tight, and he tried to pull me to look at him. To look at his eyes. I know he was trying to make me look at his eyes. So he could tell me this has to stop. But we are stuck. I don't think he knows this can still turn out ok. I know he thinks we are hanging on to a hopeless situation. We aren't. This can still turn out ok. I could feel that he was angry with me. Maybe he wasn't.....but I felt that he was. He was telling me to make this stop. I know he was.

I had to leave the room. I told his nurse he needs more sedation. He shouldn't be able to feel like that. He shouldn't be able to plead with us to make this stop. I know thats what he was doing. Dad should be unaware that breathing tube is in. Today he was very well aware. Its haunting my mind. He doesn't know whats going on. And then he does. Suddenly, if even for seconds. Its eating me alive. There isn't any more comfort. I dont feel comfortable with any of this. His eyes say it all.

I can't stop wondering how he feels. Does he feel too much? Is he scared? Does he need us to talk to him, or does that make it worse? Is he freaking out quietly because he cant communicate? Is he going crazy in his mind? I know he wants to die. I know he does. If he can feel and he can understand, I know he's praying to end this now. I know it. I know he is feeling hopeless, if he is able to feel. I know it. He's never been someone to give up, yet I know for years he has been done with this life. The Dialysis. The aches and pains. The Neuropathy. The back pain. The blindness. So much has been taken from him. That isnt quality of life, because he isnt happy. He isnt happy because he can't work. He's been disabled since 2002. And he just sits. In a quiet house. With his 3 loyal k9 companions. And waits until Mom comes home from work after working 12 hours a day. He waits. Waits to feel better. Waits watching the clock for his next dialysis "exchange." And thats about it. Now this. I know how he's feeling, if god forbid he can feel right now....I know how he's feeling. I can see it more than ever, in his eyes.

My dad has never been a social guy. Mom did all the shopping and errands. Dad just worked. Worked crazy long days, and that was it. He didnt go to movies. He never went to the mall. He didnt visit family, unless they came to him. Thats just the way he was. He was either away at work or working around the house. He never sat still. Until kidney failure set in. That was in 2002. It all happened so fast.

Its 4pm, Ive been sitting in this waiting room for 8 hours. We go in to check on Dad every hour. I feel guilty leaving the room, and I feel guilty entering the room. I cant win. I dont know if I should stay here or go. I always stay. I can't leave. I miss my kids. I've been in this waiting room 14 hours a day since December 28th. Did I mention I miss my kids? I have to be here for my mom. I have to be here to see whats coming. I'm the one that NEEDS to ask questions. I have to know all the details. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of going backwards and not seeing any progress. I'm tired of seeing my Dad suffer, wondering if he's suffering. I'm tired of seeing his eyes like this. I'm tired of not knowing what I should do. I'm tired of feeling helpless.

Sitting here all day is torture. Its even more torture to walk away and feel bad, worried and scared to do so. Being away from here is worse than being here. I'm all discombobulated. I haven't lost hope. I will not lose hope. It just hurts.