It is difficult to sit and wait. I have never been good at waiting, which is unusual, because in most things I am patient, but not with waiting.
We sit now each day and wait. We wait for doctors to name the villain in the plot to steal Dave's life. It has no name yet, but still the battle rages, and he grows weaker and more things go wrong. We wait for tests, and test results. We wait for treatments and therapies, and needles, and bags of IV fluids, and nurses and techs, and therapists, and still no name to the monster that consumes and kills in inches and moments and pain. We wait to know where he will move this time (move number five) and they don't tell us and move him when we are at dinner, and then we wait while he finally breaks and rages at his thirst and pain and wants to leave but cannot walk or breath, or live without the tubes and the needles and the doctors and techs, and the waiting and the waiting and the waiting.