Daddy Issues

I'm writing a hasty note to tell myself to take a chill pill. I found out last night that my dad was admitted to the hospital. I found out this morning he has pneumonia.

Ok, lots of people get pneumonia. You take antibiotics and get well. Happens all the time. But my dad isn't your typical patient. He's been bedridden, a COPD patient with empyemia, for around five years, getting worse the whole time. Even with oxygen his lung capacity is 92-93%.
89% lung capacity is considered danger zone.

We've known for a long time that anything could really send him into the next life. He chokes several times every day and manages to gain control. There's nothing to be done, but each time could be the last.

So why am I freaking out? I don't know. Maybe because despite the fact that he's been a scoundrel his whole life and we all know he's in this condition because he abused his body with everything nasty he could get his hands on, he's still Dad. If nothing else the position he holds is still one worthy of respect whether he was respectable or not. And he's not.

Part of me wants to run to Ashland. Part of me says "be still." I think I best concentrate on getting my work done and see what Mom says tonight.