Atomictumor

Man, I just realized that the tumor is still on daylight saving time.  Fixed that.

Went to see GAC for the 5:30 PM.  Pigpen’s teacher was there, and Jen (sister - Jdub or whatever her secret internets name is) was there, but they let me head back alone and talk with GAC, for the first time.  It was nice.

I love her, more than any pull in existence.

I have so much hope now.  I thought we were losing her, and that the next phone call would mean that I would say good bye, and then she got a bit better.

She’s still on that plateau.  Got a few more numbers for the numbers people out there.

BP - Arterial line is crapping out, which evidently happens after 24 hours or so.  It was reading a BP of 64, which is low.  Hopeing thats because its crapping out.  The cuff pressure was 70s/50s, which isn’t as good as earlier, but she tapered off a bit more of the BP medicine, so she has a window to fall back on if she needs it.  I think.  I didn’t ask about that, but I don’t go fishing for bad news when I can avoid it.

Pulse - 133

Pulse o2 - mid/high 90s, based on a blood gas taken a few hours ago.  Course, she’s on a vent, so it just means that she’s taking oxygen, but not, y’know, breathing it.  Yesterday it was 70s.  Ideally it should be high 90s - 100.

Temp - 97.7.  WOOT.  Still got a cooling blanket on, which warms also, which makes me wonder if it shouldn’t be called a cooling warming blanket.  A wooling blanket.  But that’d be silly.

I can communicate with her in a way I don’t understand.  This is testing my objectivity, but I’m going on faith.  Thats hard for me, guys.

She told me she’d prefer not to have Pigpen’s teacher head back, and I respected what may well have been her wishes.  She won’t remember this.

I hope she doesn’t.

She’s got a long way to go.  We played tennis on Monday, and she had a great game.  Saturday she almost died.  That doesn’t bring up emotion in me now, but its OK, because I still laugh with my mom and my sister, and I still love my kids.  Even if they irritate me.

Great news is the cats moved down to the Blueberry Farm!  Its the best situation.  They’ll be outdoor cats, which I think is better for them, they’ll be with their sister Rosie, and they’ll be awaaaaaaay from me.

Man.

I want to tell you guys stories about her, about GAC, but I can’t think of any.  I want to say something that will touch you, something that will make you think of the person in your life, and how things happen out of nowhere, how tennis turns into praying for your wife’s heathen soul to be allowed into heaven, because I can’t bear the idea of being separated from her, and because I was sure that her end was imminent.

Guys, this is hard.  I’m too drained to think of any of these stories, and I really want to.  I want to for myself.

And I want to cuddle her.  I want to breath in the scent of her hair.  I want to kiss the back of her neck, and tickle the tiny hairs back there.  I want to rub her feet.  I want to hear her voice.

Man.
I love you, baby.  My sweet BJ.

This entry was posted on Saturday, November 4th, 2006 at 7:49 pm and is filed under Pain. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.