Saturday Pensacola 1.0 the Clock
Malinda has exceptionally caring nurses here in the Surgical ICU and we are so appreciative. This morning we were all (Malinda, Linda, nurse, me) awake and up by three o'clock, which is one of our wake up coffee times anyway. Malinda seemed to sleep well through the night. For me, I, "slept" in the reclining chair that's here for the patient, waking or rousing to aware drowsiness whenever the nurse came in to do her thing. Which was every hour and which continues to include "Tell me your name," and "What's your birthday," "Where are you?" and "What year is it?" and always "Who is the president?" Together with "Move this foot" and "Show me two fingers with your left hand," she answers enough to satisfy the nurse, who continually checks.
The political question reminds me that looking for the positive is vital in these circumstances, and that having seen no television for two whole weeks is one of many positives.
I've learned to tell time by glancing at the digital clock's reflection in the sliding glass door across the room. Easy as Hebrew
Malinda and I had a conversation this morning in which I updated her on family matters, including that Kristen probably will be here later today; I thanked her for having Kristen and she told me from her ICU semi-slumber, "I only had her for you," then "As soon as I found out she was a girl I knew you'd love her." I said, "I'd love a boy too, but girls are very special to me," and she replied, "I know that." Most everyone knows that when Kristen was born her parents had been divorced six months, and I got to adopt her as my daughter-granddaughter.
This is a good time to make sure those whom you love hear you say so. Last week, no, I think it was week before last, after M's emergency procedure, rising to consciousness a day or so later, she looked at who was gathered round her bed and, nodding at each individually, said to each one of us, "I love you, and I love you, and I love you, and I love you."
This is life in the Surgery ICU. The good news this morning is that my child is alive, moving all arms, legs, hands, feet, fingers and toes, and, between long naps, conversing normally.
We are back at the motel quickly to shower and change underwear. Here at Hampton Inn the ladies at the reception have Malinda in their prayers. For all you who do, my gratitude.
Right shoe first and Praise the Lord.
T
The political question reminds me that looking for the positive is vital in these circumstances, and that having seen no television for two whole weeks is one of many positives.
I've learned to tell time by glancing at the digital clock's reflection in the sliding glass door across the room. Easy as Hebrew
Malinda and I had a conversation this morning in which I updated her on family matters, including that Kristen probably will be here later today; I thanked her for having Kristen and she told me from her ICU semi-slumber, "I only had her for you," then "As soon as I found out she was a girl I knew you'd love her." I said, "I'd love a boy too, but girls are very special to me," and she replied, "I know that." Most everyone knows that when Kristen was born her parents had been divorced six months, and I got to adopt her as my daughter-granddaughter.
This is a good time to make sure those whom you love hear you say so. Last week, no, I think it was week before last, after M's emergency procedure, rising to consciousness a day or so later, she looked at who was gathered round her bed and, nodding at each individually, said to each one of us, "I love you, and I love you, and I love you, and I love you."
This is life in the Surgery ICU. The good news this morning is that my child is alive, moving all arms, legs, hands, feet, fingers and toes, and, between long naps, conversing normally.
We are back at the motel quickly to shower and change underwear. Here at Hampton Inn the ladies at the reception have Malinda in their prayers. For all you who do, my gratitude.
Right shoe first and Praise the Lord.
T