Dad's still not looking very good. We're all keeping fingers crossed. Doctors are doing all they can but are really busy putting out the fires here and there.

He's now transferred to the Intermediate Care area, a step down from ICU. Hoping they won't have to bring him down to ICU. His kidneys are not looking pretty at the moment and seem to be on strike. Honestly, the pancreatitis may have been the trigger but all the underlying stuff are just making the situation worse.

Yesterday I brought Gillian to see him. She just stood there and softly called him. I told her to take off her mask so he can see her. And you know, he just smiled the biggest smile I've seen since he got into hospital. She's his favourite. Ever since we camped with mom and dad while house-hunting 10 years ago and even before that, when we would make the daily circuit to drop her at mom's place and pick her up at the end of the day, dad was always so in love with her. He would bring her for walks round the neighbourhood in the stroller, carry her, swing her, play with her and in the later years when I got cranky with her, dad always stepped in to defend her.

When it came to her PSLE, he tried tutoring her (which brought back memories for me!) and although the methods have changed and Gillian is a worse goondu at maths than me, he tried his best to be patient. Probably he was more patient with her than he ever was with me! I still remember him chain-smoking through my P6 year at the dinner table drilling me in maths. Maths was never my strong point and these sessions must have stressed him as much as it did me! He used to scold me loudly: You gorblock! Well he gave up tutoring Gillian and we got her Aunty Diane to do this instead. But to me, it was his effort that counted and we really appreciated it.

Just before he was admitted to hospital, he had taken the train alone to Chinatown to buy a phone for her. Just because Isaac had one, he said she needed to have one too. So off he went to get one with all the bells and whistles for her. Mom told him to give it to her only after her exams or it will distract her from studying. But then the next day he collapsed.

You know, I am not very close to dad - and this probably stemmed all the way from when I was a kid. When I was young, I remember he always came home late, slept in on Sundays and so on. He loved his chess, billiards, bowling and while he signed report books, picked me up from my teen parties at midnight and gave the occasional thrashing, he was just... dad. We never really talked and I had remnants of fear and awe of him.

Haha, but I did get an A for Maths. Probably the first and last time I ever did!

In all honesty, I think he was a far better grandad than he was a dad - but I love him for this. I love him for loving all my children and taking such good care of them, patiently ferrying them here and there, buying them forbidden fruit, defending them when I rant and rave...

So yesterday, coming home from the hospital in the late afternoon after spending the whole morning there, I took a cab home. Could not face taking the shuttle service, the MRT and then trudging home. I was too tired. Funny how emotional fatigue can translate into physical fatigue! So I took a cab home. And in the cab, my tears just started to come. I could not stop them. My ducts had a life of their own and it just flowed. I scolded myself: hey, he's not gone yet you know! But bloody ducts just kept the tap turned on.

When I got home, the kids of course spotted my puffy eyes and started teasing me about it. Which made me wonder tiredly - why are kids sometimes so cruel and insensitive? They don't mean to be hurtful but this is their grandfather who is so sick. Don't they have any compassion? Don't they feel anything?

I sat down and yes, I cried in front of my children. They watched with fascinated horror. I didn't mean to do it but I guess I was still over-wrought from the cab ride. I explained to them why I was sad and reminded them how much granddad loved them all and how much he had done for them. And then Gillian teared up. And Caitlin too. Girls seemed to be more emo than the boys who just listened stoically.

So last night, when I went back to the hospital, Gillian came with me and KH. She barely spent five minutes with dad, so nervous about seeing all the tubes, monitors etc. KH gave dad a backrub, which I thought was so sweet of him since dad and he were never close and always had that gruff patina to their relationship.

I don't know if it is the sight of Gillian or not, but dad perked up. Enough to insist to the nurses that he wanted a drink and he wanted it NOW. He seemed more lucid and clear-minded than in previous days when he just drowsed in bed. When I left for the night, his output looked better than it had previously and he said he had no pain.

I was happy he had no pain since the doctors had removed the 24-hr morphine drip and are withholding pain meds. I know why the docs did that - they did not want to compound the problem with the kidneys by adding more and more drugs when his output was already so low. Meant that the drugs would just accumulate in him and with pethidine (yes he was given pethidine!) the risk of respiratory distress would be present. Yes, how well I know the risks of Pethidine. And ditto morphine too. But I really worried that dad would be in pain. I just wanted him kept comfortable. No matter the outcome, please don't let him be in pain. But it looked like this was not to be.

Early this morning, the doctors seemed pleased with the increase output and plans to hemodialyse in ICU are on hold for now, contingent upon his creatinine results. Phew! Fingers crossed that he does not have to do that. So everytime I pee these days, I pee 'for' dad and send God the thought - let the same amount come out from dad! LOL!

Okay summary of treatment thus far in short - yesterday they started a central line in the jugular (neck) and they also started an arterial line in his left hand. Hence the move up to Intermediate Care which was more able to do such monitoring. Until last night and this morning, his urine output remained poor despite the litres of fluid being pumped in. At one point, docs told us they had pumped in 4litres and only 1 litre was coming out! To get the water out of him, they are giving lasix to help him pee. He still looks very bloated and lots of water retention now seen in his face and arms, hands as well. But this morning docs reported that they are pleased becos he seems a tad less bloated today than yesterday.

The pain meds are off for now and dad seems uncomfortable this morning. But docs have stood firm on their reasons and will only give small boluses of Pethidine - 25mg (this morning, a teeny bit of morphine).

All other vital signs remain stable - BP stable, oxygen saturation also stable. We're only waiting for his bloodwork results to come back to see creatinine levels. Hopefully calcium levels (which were lowish yesterday) would have come up. Still no food and drink allowed, only sips of water and boy are the dragons in the ward super-strict and miserable with the amount they give! I know I know... good reasons why they are holding back. But I feel so sorry for poor dad whenever he asks for water. Seems so inhumane to withhold even water.

We are all hanging in there - thanks so much to some of you who wrote, left comments or called me. Writing about this helps me feel better and put things in perspective. Mom was a bit disapproving about all this going on my blog but to me, it helps me deal with it.