Spiked but steady.

The doctors told my father that there was some damage done to his heart itself, and that it's operating at about 40% of its funcionality; it might sound bad, but he certainly doesn't show it. There're only letting him walk on Wednesday, but on the bright side, he's out of intensive care and into a normal cardio ward.

From the bottom of my...um...heart...I'd like to thank you for the well-wishes and for bearing with the ranting.

I suppose I've found a month-long supply of ready puns. The best way to gauge my father's spirits is to crack a joke. I basically told him that he could now boast to his friends that he had almost literally died of a broken heart. He cracked a smile and laughed heartily (unintentional pun), though in hindsight, that might've not been a brilliant thing to do.

And in a strange way, the assignment deadline has been extended to two weeks, which is something unprecedented, so I've got a buffer.

Once again, thanks for your encouragement and prayers. And with that, I'll leave you with a reminder about how incredibly sterile the hospital experience is:

Hospital food is like a bimbo; looks great but totally bland.