As Day 3 came to a close, I recall that we were all perplexed. Dad was getting blasted with lots of antibiotics, and they were taking cultures in an attempt to determine the source of his "Atypical Pneumonia" that was steadily worsening. Dad showed little or no improvement, and it seemed to me like every breath that he was taking was about as easy as it would have been to go climbing up a wall. Even the vent settings were hard to calibrate, since Dad seemed to fight them, seeming to want to breathe on his own.
As Dad crawled forward through time, I drew him as Spider-man, now realizing with certainty that I was going to draw another cartoon for Dad every additional 24 hours that he made it. At this point, the drawing was giving me something to do there at this bedside. I drew them while sitting there next to him, with the clipboard I was using resting on his bed, right there by his legs, one of which I was often gently holding on to. It really didn't matter to me the "quality" of the drawing, but rather that they had bright colors that Dad would be able to see in his field of vision, regardless of how blurry it might be, at whatever point he might able to see himself depicted as the superhero I knew him to be...
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