Well, some doctor at the hospital finally had the stones to tell my mother the stuff that everyone knew and she just didn't want to admit to herself.

(a) Dad cannot be cured of the pneumonia without taking him off the tubes.
(b) He will never be off the tubes.
(c) They cannot rehabilitate him in any way, he will never come home.
(d) "I thought you knew this already." I guess he said that in a "I thought you figured it out already," not that someone already told her tone. At which point Mom said well, yeah, she'd kinda figured, but...and then she started crying.
(e) The doctor can't give her an estimate of how much time Dad has left, 'cause he (no surprise) doesn't even know what the fuck the disease is. Mom will have to ask a neurologist.
(f) The neurologist is apparently very very very very busy and Mom shouldn't expect to hear from her until at least Tuesday.

Mauricio, continuing the "way too optimistic" thing, still thinks there's some way to bring Dad home so he doesn't have to die in the hospital. Even Mom isn't buying that one.

Meanwhile, I will not be going to the hospital this weekend because I seem to have a slight cold. Or at least, a really annoying case of on-again-off-again-every-ten-minutes stuffy nose/sore throat combo. Which is just enough to keep me out of the ICU.

Yeah, I'm relieved. Or at least, I'm not going to start looking for zinc lozenges to pop until Sunday night.

And speaking of time off, Auntie Dolores and Uncle Bruce went to go visit Dad today. (For 25 minutes, according to the login books. They claim 50.) Not only did they admit it is depressing to see him like that, they actually told Mom they could take a day off from seeing him and admitted she looked a bit frazzled.

Mom said it was a good thing she was sitting down when they said that, or else she would have fallen down from shock.

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