How much longer, Oh lord?

It had been almost a week since I went to visit with my Dad, and for the brief moments I was their today, it cannot be called a visit. I told my Dad I'd be their in an hour, and I was but, poor worn out guy he is, he fell asleep, sitting up, cup in hand... he was in a hard sleep when I got there. So, I left a few things for him, and left. 

The truth is, I did not want to be there. I hate places like that, nursing homes, hospitals, etc. Places that to me often smell of death. When he was home, I didn't compare his appearance to his roommates, or to that of the patients across the hall. When he was home, it wasn't so obvious that actually fits in with these elderly people who are in their 70's and 80's, even though he is only 53. At home no one told me how nice it was his grand daughter came to see him, especially since I am his daughter and his only grandchild isn't yet 2 years old. Yet, when he was home, I could not manage his pain, keep him hydrated, or even get enough calories in him to maintain his already horrifically low weight. 

Visiting him often gives me a headache. I get nauseated, and always exit the room, keeping my head down so that no one sees the pooling tears, holding them back just until I hit the cool outside air, where, inevitably the rain drops will hit my cheeks about the same time the tears spill over, mingling cold with hot... it's at times like this I don't mind the nearly constant drizzle our state holds for many months...times when the dreariness makes sense. It shouldn't be like this when I visit my Dad.  I hope he does not think my lack of visiting means I love him less... I keep trying to muster the strength to spent more than an hour with him. 

Today was especially hard as I already had a headache, and was exhausted from a late night. Even though he was sleeping when I arrived, his position made him look like a stroke victim, his mouth handing open, he did not have his partials in, so his mouth sunk around his gums where he does not have teeth, one eye was half open, he head lolled to the side, and he snored. I was glad he was sleeping so deeply as sleep does not come easy or often for him now but, seeing how he had fallen asleep with a cup on his hand and papers sprawled on his lap, I knew he fell asleep mid thought, preparing for my arrival so we could sort mail and pay bills. Sometimes I think I would be easier to handle these visits if I KNEW what the cancer was doing, if I knew if the treatment worked or not. The waiting for him to recover enough for reevaluation only makes it hard because right now... as far as I know... my Dad still has cancer, and it seems like he is their to die. I know it's not true, he is in fact there to allow him to recover, and more speedily but sometimes the heart does not consort with the mind enough to leave a person settled. 

Now, I don't have the strength to go home, where I'd once again be alone, in a house that has always been so full. I also don't have the energy to go to a friends house, even if the laughter would be good medicine. So, I sit at a starbucks, smelling the roasted coffee but not drinking because I'm still nauseated from my 5 minutes stay at Dads facility. I also have a headache... 

I can barely recall the fun I had last night, at a party with people I love. Oh, it was fun, and good for my spirit, I know...but sometimes reality comes back so fast, so starkly, and you realize that your life is so drastically different from others. 

Lord, be near... today is hard. I need you.