Jason is doing well. He has felt fine and is resting. We did not end up getting home until Thursday October 21st. I didn’t think I would live another night there, but I did.
I re-entered the work world. It felt like I had been in a time warp. Everything was different, but the same. I’m really glad it was on a Friday, so I can slowly sink back into it. I can tell you this, after the nurses and doctors “customer service”, I am a lot more conscious of the quality of work I do and HOW I do it, but most especially how I treat people. Not that I was bad before, it’s just from the smarting stings of arrogance and not-my-job syndrome, I have developed an extra sensitive layer of compassion and tact.
Coming home was a welcome sight for a teenage girl who loves her parents and missed them. And for three dogs that thought they’d been abandoned.
My sister and her husband cleaned our ENTIRE house when they visited for the weekend while Jason was in the hospital. What a treasure. I thought going out to eat was great, but this was such a relief and worth more than food or anything else. It was peace of mind and more restful than I can describe to you. My sister (and husband) are amazing. It was an incredible surprise.
In other words, I will get there, I promise.
There are so many things, I just want back to normal. To blog again. To connect with other bloggers. To have more time to read blogs and participate in the going ons. BUT.
We still have a loved one in the hospital. For now, in ICU recovery. Her progress? Slow. And almost a reversal, due to the pain of her head, of the feeding tube inserted, of the injury to her bottom; you don’t want to know, but let me just say it’s like a diaper rash X 100 resulting in an open bleeding wound. Why? Because someone didn’t check a tube. No wonder she can’t sit up in a chair, could you? [hospitals!]
I visited her for the first time in over a week last night. I expected the worse. I expected a decline from the time before where she told me she loved me and held my hand at her bedside. She talked softly, but quite clearly telling me she was sorry about the wedding. It broke my heart in a million pieces.
I didn’t cry at, or before, or during the wedding. I refused. It was a happy day and I refuted any tears to come, but anything to do with her, and her pain. It tears me up. She is such a beautiful woman inside and out and deserves so much happiness and joy. Not pain and suffering.
When we got to her room, she was sleeping. I thought that would be it, but she woke up and proceeded to talk and talk and talk. About now, about the past, about the wedding, about her beautiful grandchildren. Most especially to advise us to love every day and tell those you love, you love them, every chance you get. It was about three hours of smiles, laughs, and tears. From her and us. I wish I could describe how her laugh made my soul leap to heaven and back. Her mind is so sharp. How miraculous is that? She endured a brain aneurysm and a stroke in the same weekend. Now, I know where her son gets it. I look forward to many more moments like these. She moves to the miracle floor Monday. Rehab. They say miracles happen there and I believe it will for her too. It already has.
I also got to dabble for a few moments in my second great love; practicing photography.