Dad had a stroke in late March last year. That left the right side of his body paralyzed and his speech, unintelligible (Aphasia). A couple of months’ rehabilitation did not help him regain any of his lost control of his body. He ended up in a home late last August. He now needed a wheelchair to move around and constant care by healthcare professionals just to sustain his life, but he seemed okay none the less.
At the beginning of last month, he developed pneumonia, most likely from pulmonary aspiration, i.e., letting food go down the wrong pipe. He was hospitalized and given antibiotic. At one point, he became well enough to be allowed to resume eating on his own. Then the same thing happened. Twice.
The third time was the charm — just in a wrong way. This time he cannot kick it. The doc has administered the most strongest kind of antibiotic, but the patient is not responding to that. He has a lot of difficulty breathing — understandable given that half of his lungs are now filled with some fluid. He almost makes it look like Darth Vadar had it easy.
He could pass any time now. At the same time, he could still survive this, although it comes with much, much slimmer chance. Unfortunately, this is not really a good outcome for him either; he will have to be fed through a feeding tube and not be able to leave the hospital. People say once you cannot eat by yourself, it’s all downhill from there — like he still isn’t at a pretty low point yet.
Now all I can do is anxiously wait for that inevitable phone call.