Dad

I'm in the UK, it's 10pm and I'm kind of in a delirious state. I arrived at 5 this morning, then drove to Liverpool, saw my dad and am still digesting it I think. Although my brother did as best as he could to prepare me for it, I was still shocked to see my dad, in my mind such a big and solid man, so weak and vunerable in every way. He's lost an incredible amount of weight, but more seriously he's unable to speak and I can tell that this is driving him crazy. I was with him for a total of 2 or 3 hours today, and although he was constantly trying to squeeze out words through whatever barriers are inside his head, he only managed to utter a maximum of 5 words. He would begin sentences, teasingly, with 'Whatever happens...' or 'Joseph...' but then be unable to complete the sentence, eventually finishing it with '...I don't know'. If he could scream he would, inside he probably is.

I can't quite figure out what's going on. On one hand, there's definitely much more than problems with speech - he was asked by the nurse what day/month/year it was and he was unable to answer. Yet at the same time, I was telling him today about Tony Blair's speech today and how he looked like he was going to stay for a few more years and he definitely got it, and gave the frown I'd expect from a man who once had the most unquenchable appetite for left-wing politics of anyone I've ever known.

Afterwards I spoke with his consultant who told me pretty much what my brother told me, none of it good - that probably the best my dad could hope for was to spend the rest of his days in hospital, that he's very vulnerable to infections, that his ability to fight an infection is practically zero, that I shouldn't expect any significant improvement in speech and that he probably wouldn't be a good candidate for a life-support machine if it should come to it.