day 43

43 days later
my father goes into the hospital.

He woke up, almost the same as every morning.
But
One eye had swelled during the night
puss oozed from it
and he couldn't use it properly.

He also had developed a cough.
and it sounded... wet?

He ate his breakfast... but then something happened. He just stopped responding.
I mean even more than with the Alzheimers
I even got his arm mistakenly caught in the wheelchair (to which he usually screams in pain) and... nothing... complete silence.

I knew something was wrong.

Called the Doctor
my sister
and then the ambulance.
I tried to sound calm and... not worried on the phone. (I didn't want sirens and screaming EMTs. I mean my Dad was sleeping and snoring... okay he had phlegm pouring out of his mouth as well... but he was snoring. You can't be that sick if you are snoring, can you?)

The paramedics came (6 OF THEM!) and 2 policemen came as well... ahhh. the American tax dollar.
We followed behind.

In the hospital we waited. We listened to nurses. We found that he was just on the verge of developing pneumonia and he had a slight urinary infection. When Alzheimer patients get infections they tend to shut down and quit responding. They told us we had done the right thing to bring him in. It is so much better to catch it now than wait until it gets bad.

In the hospital I looked at my dad... these spaghetti twisty plastic tubes flowing around his head and his bed like calligraphy gone wild. He snored again.
Why are we doing this? I thought. What kind of life is this. He'll wake in the morning and have no idea where he is. He wakes here in the morning and has no idea where he is. What can he possibly be getting out of living this life?
Am I talking like a... uncaring shitty no-good pessimist? I just can't pretend here. I am with him all day long... where is even the possibility of joy in his life?

why are any of us alive? We may not be able to answer but we know there is an answer... somewhere. Where is that answer for him?