Have you met fear?

Fear's been coming by and visiting me. Seems that I make a pretty good target. And why not? I mean, my mom and dad may be on their last legs ... so to speak. I already have had an innate fear of death since I was little. And now I have to face it with my parents.

Eventually I have to face it for me. But I'd rather avoid thinking about it.

Anyway.

I came to see mom and dad last week. Dad had to be taken to the hospital. His prostate cancer was wrecking his ADH which was in turn making him retain fluids which made his sodium levels extremely low. He was barely conscious.

By the time I came to see them, he was getting ready to leave the hospital. He seemed much better.

He started on some meds to help him with retaining fluids, etc. Honestly, he seemed much better. He had some sort of appetite, paid attention to people around him, he even talked and sang in his sleep. Granted, that last one was just amusing but it reminded me of the old dad, the one that I grew up with who would whistle or sing (in his croacky voice) some sort of Spanish or Cuban song that seemed appropriate at the time.

Made me smile.

He would walk around the house and from time to time would break out into some silly Cuban song. "Ay, Mama Ine' Ay Mama Ine'. Todo' los negros tomamos café" He sounded terrible, or so I thought, cause he basically had little or no pitch. I'd want him to stop.

I wish I could see that man again.

He even started reading his newspapers online and asking my opinion on events that, to be honest, I had not read up on .... like the education system in Cuba.

He loves to discuss all kinds of topics and political situations anywhere. You better know your politics and have some opinions around my dad.

Made me smile.

But fear ... who does not let an opportunity like this slip by, came along and sat next to me for a few ... "Let's chat"

See, in my experience (limited as it is at times), I see "getting better while sick" as a sign that the worse is coming .... or the end is coming. Lelo, my grandfather, was wide awake on Father's day then slipped back into his coma. About a month later he died.

"Yup. Seems it is happening again. You better get ready."

Yes, I react very well to fear. I can't live in fear but there it is. Staring at me. Taunting me. "Guess what dude? It could happen again." I hate fear. Fear sucks.

I left mom and dad on Saturday. Dad was waking, well, if you call it walking. He was a bit shaky but nothing major. He seemed to be on the road again.

Sunday I get a message from my sister. Dad is doing worse ("See ... I told you this would happen"). He could not get up. He could barely stand ... if anything ... even with his walker.

I basically did some quick laundry, and repacked what I had unpacked.

So now, besides the sodium levels being low, his lungs have not been taking care of his CO2. This made him dizzy and unable to stay awake. Which made mom fear that he would be in a coma from then on.

There's that word again.

Fear.

Dad does have a hard time staying awake. He is on a respirator, of sorts, that basically makes him breathe deeply so his lungs can get rid of the CO2 in his system. His own body was working against him. To poison him. Now, between the respirator and the oxygen, he seems ok.

Then there's the pneumonia. One lung only ... according to mom ... and she can hide facts and information better than most. But its there.

I came into the room and looked at dad. It was a strange juxtaposition of my dad, the machine, mom ... my brain was trying hard to wrap around it. He also did not seem like old dad.

Who is that weak old man? Who is he? Where's my dad?

Mom's had to point out to him that I am in the room. He looked around and, I don't know what he sees but it may not be me, and eventually he looked in my direction. I do talk so he'll look at where the voice is coming from.

When the nurses came in for the physical therapy ... that was not dad. Not my dad. Not my old dad. This dad had a hard time understanding. He had a hard time focusing. He had a hard time just being present.

Where's my dad?

"You'll be there some day. You'll see. And you are alone."

Damned fear.

I'm sitting next to him. The machine shoving oxygen into his lungs. Making him take deep breaths. He has his eyes closed. He shakes and twitches from time to time. The All Star Game is on TV. Baseball will always remind me of Dad. Of taking me to see Los Cangrejeros del Santurce. Of talking baseball for a long time. He is quiet.

Lying in the hospital bed next to me.

His eyes are closed and here,

here ....

I fear ....

nothing.