I am writing this on my cellphone while sitting beside my dad's bed. He is dying. The doctor has given him 4-5 days. We are keeping him at home and he is getting a morphine patch and a day and night nurse. He is 90 and has lived a good life. He has no terminal disease, just his system is shutting down and he appears to have had a stroke/heart attack a few days ago. The Dr says he is slipping in and out of consciousness and even if he went to hospital, they could just prolong a very diminished existence for a month or two. We have chosen to go the home route. He loves his flat here in Sea Point in Cape Town. But it is one thing to write all this down calmly and another to hear his wracking coughs - has water on lungs. "I wish him peace," said the yoga man. So do I.
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