A new time

My dad died peacefully at 3.20am on Monday June 11.
He was buried the same day, in keeping with Jewish religion/tradition (not sure which it is).
He lived a long and good life and was a very happy man. But I will miss him terribly. Hell, I am missing him. Feel bereft.
Took myself off to a therapist (asked my doctor to recommend a bereavement therapist) and went on Wednesday and Friday last week. Then spent a very tranquil weekend not doing too much (apart from a Saturday night late shift at work which was super busy) and started feeling more normal as from yesterday.
Today saw The Lymph Lady. My arm has been dreadful while I was in Cape Town and in fact, can pinpoint its demise from the day my dad died.
It was so bad that the other day put on a top which has particularly tight sleeves (the rest of it, in contrast, is loose and the effect is pretty cool), and had to take it off as the left upper arm sleeve was so tight.
Then this morning, while at biokinetics, I mentioned it was feeling a bit - well, much - better.
At The Lymph Lady it was ok. And what was most intriguing was that she said she has noticed in all her patients that when their stress levels are raised, their lymphedema is worse.

My darling dad

Sitting in the lounge of my dad's flat and we can hear him breath from here. The nurse has suggested we leave the bedroom so he can go in peace. Just now he blinked and there was a tear. She said his temperature is dropping and his skin is tightening. My wonderful father .... Can hear him breath.....
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My dad is dying

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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