Atomictumor

Seems like I had some sort of dream last night dealing with the hospital, children, and “God’s will”.  Anything beyond that is lost.  GAC has an amazing ability to have the freakiest, weirdest, goofiest-assed dreams, and remember them with great clarity.

It’d be so awesome to know what they are now.  What if she’s dreaming whats really happening?  She’s watching me sleep, or watching the kids roll around.

When I was a kid, I used to tell my little brother in the next bed that we’d hang out in our dreams (he has always been my little buddy).  Maybe that happened, because altough the tears and the emotions that I was too tired for yesterday are back (hi there), I feel some dumb sort of peace.

I’m 6 minutes late for work.  I would normally have left her sleeping body about an hour ago (OK, about 30 minutes ago, I’m a wake and dash kinda person).  I used to write her an email first thing in the morning, just something dumb like “Hey baby, nothing much to say. Mornings suck.  Bleah.  I sure do love you, sweet critter.”

I haven’t done that in a while, because we’re so busy that we don’t have time to reply.  If she sent me one (that wasn’t about how pissed she was at something), it’d be 2 hours before I’d see it, and by then she’d be gone.  Monday is our busy day, we only spend an hour or so together.

Oh, BJ.  I wish, I wish.

Just called Gary before he leaves.  Somebody named Linda is taking over, I don’t know her, but he handpicked her, he says.

Her stats are still very much the same.  Her arterial line did crap out on her last night, so they’re checking pressure with the cuff, but it can only do it when she’s palpated.  They’re going to put another line in her, and I hope to God she’s stable enough to take it.  Maybe today they’ll take that head CT and chest CT.   Gary told me yesterday that the reason that she can’t is because if they take her off the vent, she’ll lose a ‘ping’ or something.  As a computer dork, I almost find that amusing, it has something to do with how the machine makes her lungs accept stuff.

“lungs accept stuff”?  Yeah, theres some english flinging for you.  She’s critizise the hell out of that.  Last night I was talking about how GAC hates it when I take a turn too fast, or something, and Mom, jokingly, said “Yeah, she’s so critical“.  Took me a second to get the unintended pun.  Hope you laugh as much as I did.

This is her rough time of day.  God, please keep her safe.  Please help her heal, and guide her back to us.  Today I won’t care “when” she gets back, like I was stressing about yesterday (and, that’ll probably end up being a lie by the end of the day), just as long as she comes back.

I want to watch the kids grow up with her.

Sweet, sweet girl.  My little lost BJ, I love you with all of my heart.  Have sweet dreams.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 6th, 2006 at 6:26 am 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.