Dad's heart stopped four or five times today. Two of the times were when we were visiting him this afternoon. Doctors don't know why it's happening, but are concerned that it means his condition isn't stable. Each time, his heartbeat slows and then stops.... and then kicks in again a few seconds later and goes back up to normal again. Mum says that all the uncertainty is killing her: one day there's good news and she allows herself to hope again; and then the next day there's yet another setback and it looks as if we're losing him again.
Because Dad's not stable, they need to increase his sedation and his ventilation from time to time. When he is more conscious, he moves his mouth and tries to speak to us... but we usually can't understand what he's saying. When the nurse moistened his mouth with a wet sponge this afternoon, we could clearly see that he was saying, "thank you," but mostly it's not really possible to discern what he's trying to say.
Today I leaned across his bed and asked him if this was all too much for him; did he want to give up the fight? He just looked at me, and so then I asked him, "Do you want us to keep fighting for you, so that perhaps you can be home again for your birthday?" And he simply nodded, before closing his eyes again. I know that if I was the person in intensive care, and was ready to go and be with the Lord, I wouldn't want everyone else fighting to hold me back and keep me here on earth. And so that's why I felt I had to ask Dad today; I had to get a sense of whether he had the will and the energy to keep on fighting.
This is such a hard and uncertain time. Today I read some verses from Psalm 138 at his bedside. It says: Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You, Lord will preserve my life. I call to You and You answer me; You make me bold and strong hearted. I don't know how long Dad can keep up this fight, but I'm not going to let him go unless I really have a sense that it is the right thing to do.
