I just got home from the hospital about 45 minutes ago. I sat with my Dad for a little over 10 hours while Becky went home, did some chores, cleaned up, etc. I'm pretty tired which is pathetic because all I did is sit there. Of course, he doesn't want you to watch television or make any noise, so I made sure to be real quiet. I had internet access until 5 and I guess they shut it right off at 5 up there.
He was about the same as he was last night. He's in quite a bit of pain and the medicine he is on works for about an hour. He's hurting bad enough that they were giving him morphine, but they had to stop giving it to him only because it causes constipation and he fo sho don't need that.
I enjoyed spending time with him, even if he was a little out of his gourd. He talked about his beloved grandmother and actually broke up a little bit when he talked about the day she died. It's so odd to see him this emotional. Now, we've always been a family who's joked and laughed and yelled and fussed, but he's never cried in front of me. The first time I ever heard him cry was when I called him from Mississippi when Cain was very, very ill. Dad later said he felt hopeless and we were so far away. I know in yesterday's post I said I never have heard him cry, but there was that time. At any rate, it really is strange. I know he's going out of his absolute mind just laying there in that stupid bed. And he just moans in pain. It's horrible. :(
Well, I'm going to bed. I think. I may be too wound up to actually get any sleep.
Oh, the photo above is of my Dad's "paint box." It's not really a box but I've always called it that. It's more like a briefcase. He's had that thing since probably way before I was born, but I always love seeing it. :)
He better get well soon or I'm going to be a fruitcake. (Keep smart-alec comments to yourself!) :o) ;o)