As I write this, I am in Florida, many miles from home. My father is fighting for his life in a hospital bed, attached to more machines and wires and tubes than I have ever seen in my life. He has at least one, sometimes two nurses in his room at all times. These are highly skilled, incredibly gifted nurses who patiently answer all of our questions and show great compassion while remaining dedicated to what is best for my father. The doctors are Christian men who pray for their patients on a daily basis, which gives us great comfort. Yesterday, things looked bleak. Today we have some hope. My father has shown us he wants to continue this fight and God has shown us His power to heal.  People are praying for dad all over the country and indeed other countries. My husband, step mom and I have perfected a system of showering, rushing to the hospital and trading places so that someone is always near dad.We are afraid to be absent when a signature is required or a change takes place. We have become excellent girl scouts and boy scouts, always prepared, carrying snacks, phone chargers and notes in our bags. We have developed a phone triage to keep all our friends and family updated. We are "recovery" warriors. Except this doesn't feel like a recovery quite yet. The expected "recovery" would've seen dad home by now, resting and, well...............recovering. But he's still fighting. The doctor said his body is under the most stress it has ever experienced in it's life of 71 years.

I am sitting at dad's computer, in dad's bedroom, in dad's house and I feel as if this is happening to someone else. This can't be right because dad isn't here. He isn't telling his jokes or reciting trivia.  I'm in sunny Florida, but I cannot appreciate or enjoy it. I can't go to the beach, or go shopping or enjoy my favorite seafood haunt down here because it would feel inappropriate. Those are happy things and I am not happy to be here. I no longer love Florida. I wish I were back home going about my daily routine and my father were here in his home "recovering". Until that wish is granted I will continue to whisper encouragement in my father's ears and I will continue to pray................