Saturday, July 31, 2004

In God's Hands

Last Sunday, as I placed my hand on Dad’s back I could trace his shoulder blade against his skin. He had lost so much weight, the ridges of his spine were barely concealed beneath the thin white singlet he had on. He had difficulty eating and his coughs made things worse. Mom pointed at his stockinged feet and said they were swollen. Just over a month and a half after he was diagnosed with cancer in the liver, and two weeks after his angiogram and embolism, he was clearly wasting away. We prayed to the Lord of Lords, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, that my Dad would know his life was secure in God’s loving hands.

Today Albert said Dad would have to be admitted. His feet, all puffy and more swollen than they were on Sunday. Side effects of chemotherapy. Also he had not been eating and sleeping. Dad would probably be put on a protein drip or something. My Dad. He who never had any major ailment all through his 79 years. Until now, Mom had said.

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