I wish I had some good news. I don’t. At least there is no bad news.
I met with another neurologist and his interns. He re-examined the original EEG and agreed on what it did not show (much neural involvement with the reflexes we see). He examined the CAT scan for the first time, and noted that it did not show damage. They lifted my father’s sedatives enough for an “examination” (really, just talking loudly and pinching — I’m beginning to see what they mean by “clinical nihlism”) and he was as he was yesterday, as he was two days ago.
I feel cold.
I want my dad to be better. I want him to be healthier. I want him to be back.
Sometimes my dad’s eyes water when we talk to him. My mom said his eyes fluttered when she was around. My brother says he smiles if his chin is scratched the right way.
But I want the dad who was going to drive down and see me tomorrow.
I just wish this week never happened. I want to go back in time to Saturday.
Driving to buy soup.
Talking to my dad on the phone.
And knowing I will see him, two days after St. Valentine’s.