Long Days

A week and a half ago my dad was given two weeks to live by one nurse, though last weekend we were given a more optimistic figure of 3-4 weeks by another nurse. The doctors declare if they take their chemo, he might last as long as a year. But for much of recent days, he's been reduced by the cancer to mental incompetency, unable to really do anything or take anything from life, as which point you wonder if that's worth the bother. Last Sunday my attempt to keep him from taking his medications when he wasn't supposed to resulted in him slapping me and chasing me around the dining room. The day before he'd been in the hospital to deal with blood-thinning issues, during which he'd been rational and even eaten more. But most days he doesn't want to eat. He apparently was more rational today when he was awake. When he is rational, he persists in wanting the chemo, so he gets the port for it put in tomorrow.
This takes a terrible toll on my mother. She's been dependent on him for most of our lives, and will have pretty much noone but my sister and me. We cannot be sure she will be able to connect with anyone else. With his death now certain, my worry is for her.