If there's a question mark at the end of it, I don't want to hear it.

First off - huge apologies for not posting in so long.

My dad is back in the hospital again... but this time he says its for good. He can feel it in his body. He doesn't think there's too much time left.

On Sept 19, my dad began to notice his feet were swelling which was a sign that water had begun to collect in his body again. He was also having a bit of trouble breathing. It eventually got the point where my dad was afraid to sleep because he was afraid he wouldn't wake up. That's when he asked Mom to take him to ER.

By the time he reached the ER, my dad got significantly worse. Previous visits to the hospital saw my dad relatively comfortable in a semi-private room on a mild amount of O2. They would only drain about 1.5 liters of fluid from his abdomen. This time, my dad was admitted to Acute Monitoring - a very public room with many monitors, lots of nurses, and lots of other patients moaning. My dad was completely lethargic - to the point where he couldn't feed himself. Instead of tapping his abdomen once for fluid, they inserted a permanent catheter attached to a bag which would constantly drain the fluid collecting in his body. They would drain 1.5 liters each day. One day, they accidentally drained over 3 liters of fluid!

Physically, my dad's condition is deteriorating. When I last visited, he admitted that he can't go home. Its that bad.

However, the fact that my dad is doing so bad actually has a silver lining. He has moved much higher on the priority list (4 in all of Ontario - which means there are 3 people who are closer to death than my dad is). Also - I've been confirmed as a compatible donor! There are still some physical and psychological tests that will confirm that I'm the donor. But they should be a breeze.

Despite all this positive news, my dad's spirits are at their lowest. I was sharing with a friend today how difficult it is to see my dad physically ill - but how much more difficult it is to hear your dad try to admit defeat. He's had it. No more tests. No more hospital food. No more nurses. No more smelly dying people in the bed beside him.

At my last visit - you could sense just how depressed he was. It was tangible. You could feel it almost as if it were a temperature. When a nurse came in to take my dad's blood, he started sobbing. Not crying - sobbing. Like a defenseless baby. It was so difficult to watch.

Why is it that our human nature finds it so hard to be positive and focus on truth in a difficult situation? The truth is that my dad's emotions have got the best of him.

~

Dad - of course your down! You've had a pretty crappy few weeks. But the truth is that God is in full control. He has never once left your side - never once said, "my child, you're a failure and I've forgotten about you".

On the contrary. God has been with you this entire time. He choose every nurse to watch over you. He's blessed each doctor whose monitored you. Furthermore, he's got a plan to heal you and see you live a wonderful life! This situation is so temporary! I'm a match! The Toronto Hospital is just about ready to accept you as an inpatient case! It's just a matter of weeks!

~

I said something to that affect when I last saw him and he LOVED it! People - if you visit my dad, you've got to speak truth and love into his life! He is an empty jar. He's spent his life filling everyone else's jar. He needs us more than ever!

Chelsea had a great idea. Tomorrow, we're going to drop of some picture frames and some photos of the family. Also, I'm going to write a letter of encouragement in big writing on the wall that repeats a lot of what I wrote above. We need to change the atmosphere from a somber, death row cell to a room brimming with life, love, faith, and hope!

Anyway - not much else to say. In summary, my dad is currently at the Civic Hospital, floor 5, room A535, bed on the right by the window. He's there until Toronto says, "come be our patient".

My mom is looking for an apartment in Toronto. If anyone has any thoughts or connections, please fire me an email (josh@jacie.ca).

Also - please keep my parents finances in prayer. They'll be needing money to cover living expenses and drug expenses in TO after the surgery.

As for Chelsea and I, we're so swamped. I work 8am-4pm, then we're at the hospital each night from 4pm-8pm, work some more from 9-11pm, then get up and do it all over again. Meanwhile, Chelsea is fielding questions, calls, emails about Dad, the Singing Christmas Tree, New Kids on the Block, weddings, blah blah blah. We're both reaching our limit but still trying very hard to put dad first. Chelsea summed up how I feel quite well when she said, "If your sentence has a question mark at the end of it, I don't want to hear it!" Epic. Its funny how a situation like this puts life into perspective. When your dad's dying, you suddenly don't care about spilled milk - no matter how much was spilled.

Thanks so much all of you for your thoughts and prayers! And to all those people who just randomly tune into this blog because you knew me from High School or music or know Chelsea, you're a legend!