Eleven

Mum went to see dad around 8am. Dad was sitting up and wanted milk and tea. He had had another bad night, and was feeling sick. His tummy and liver area were painful, which made mum worry about a possible bile duct inflammation. Dad's body temperature was okay though, and there was no itching feeling. Dad had his tea and his milk and then a 20 mg tablet of oxycodone. Mum asked dad some questions about recent events until dad got tired and lay back down.

Then dad slept—and slept. And slept.

Nurse Helen came, and mum talked to her about dad being extremely fatigued and feeling sick. Helen said that was a very violent reaction to the oxycodone. She suggested talking to the doctor about supporting the pain in a different way. So mum called the doctor, who sent another prescription for the same oxycodone, only the 10 mg which he had meant the chemist to give out in the first place.

It is getting difficult for dad to get to the toilet. He knows when he has to go, but it takes about twenty to forty minutes to get from that realisation to calling someone to help him up, to sitting up right and then resting from sitting up right, getting his feet onto the floor, resting from that change of perspective, to up on his feet, to actually getting to the toilet in the next room...

Mum's parents opa and oma came to visit dad briefly today. They spent their time with dad asking him a few questions about the thing dad loves: aikido. It was good opa and oma were able to come despite oma's back pain. And it was good they saw dad with enough energy to be alert for them.

In the afternoon, around 15:20, Maya was in the room with dad. Suddenly dad needed to know exactly what time it was, and insisted it should be something with 11. There was some confusion about the exact time, and couldn't it just be 11 seconds... after a very intense and somewhat scary few minutes it was settled and dad could fall asleep.

Today was the first day dad has had nothing at all to eat.