Atomictumor

I was running late to see GAC. I was listening to Modest Mouse, and eating spaghetti, and chatting with Bos and Tessa in the shoutbox. BJ doesn’t have a watch, so I figured she wouldn’t mind if I was late. Besides that, her folks were going to go in a little early so they could have some time with their sleeping baby girl, and so that they could leave me time with my sleeping bride.
I wolfed down the spaghetti, and took off. Picked up Bos, and went back to the hospital. Her folks were walking down the hall.

I haven’t talked much about them. Her mom is living the grief in the moment, which is probably healthiest, but hard. Last week was very, very rough. I firmly believe that as much as I hurt, I couldn’t perceive the depth of her pain. It was evident in her eyes. I kept trying to reassure her…

But last week is last week. The worst never happened.

They were coming back from visiting her. We weren’t that late, it was 8:35 in the PM. I asked them what was up, and they said the nurses and docs were taking BJ in for that long delayed head CT!

Woot!

I waited in the Quiet Room with Bos, and we chatted. You guys all know, i’m sure, by reading this, that he is an exceptional man. He, in many ways, is what I aspire to, but what my nature defeats. I have that feeling about my father, as well, but most men do.

I heard a commotion outside, and jumped to the door. Instead of St. Nick, it was the bed with GAC, and about 7 nurses/attendants/doctors. Dr. Gavin was walking, and I called to tell him good luck. There was persistent beeping. My girl had left the ICU for the first time.

I was so happy.

—

We talked, about what I don’t remember, and they came back in time. I popped my head out, and asked if it was OK.

“Well, no” said Dr. Gavin “Its not OK.”

—

I’m listening to more Flaming Lips, because so much of their music is about the beauty. Wayne Coyne had to have seen something like this. I’m not going to give you lyrics, but I suggest you look at either The Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi, or At War With The Mystics. Maybe he’s just touched, or something, but I think I’m on the wavelength.

The title, “…but that moment never came” is the chorus that I hear right now. Maybe its not pertinent.

The moment came so many times. Thats the point
—

She’s bleeding in her brain. The medicine, zygris, or whatever, that had her bleeding from her mouth, and other places, and treated the severe septis, is probably the cause.

Rather, she had bled in her brain. Probably two days ago or so. Its not getting worse, and it can’t be treated. It might take two months to determine the permanent nature of the affliction. When asked, he suggested that disorders would exist.
Dr. Gavin was kind enough to show me the cat scan. I no longer desire a picture.

There were 3 or 4 small bleeds. One rather large one, in the part of the brain that would control mood and personality. He said that motor skill might be largely unaffected.

I know enough about medicine to say that there are no certainties about the brain. With all of the accomplishments, with all of the decades of training it takes to make a person an expert in what modern medicine knows about neuroscience, some things aren’t known. This I learned long before this event.

My cousins girlfriend had a headache, and went to the doctor. It turned out to be a very fluid, golf ball sized tumor. I never met her, but I knew he loved her very much. I know my cousin, knew him well as children, and I knew he was in pain. I never reached out to him, but thats for another day. I wish I had, but I’d wish that even if BJ wasn’t in this situation.

She’s now his wife, and recovered. A miracle, they say.

My grandmother had a stroke. Again, I never reached out. I hoped like hell, and I wished like hell that it would be good, and maybe that was a prayer that somebody who doesn’t know God can have.

She’s recovered.

The worst case has not happened since this began. I refuse to believe it will happen now. I said goodbye to my love on Monday, and before that on Saturday.

—

Additionally, the fingers on her right hand will most likely be pruned. From the top knuckle up on three fingers. No more nail polish, on that hand, but at least I can hold the fingers between mine. She’s left handed. The left hand is fine.

—

Apparently, it was a kidney infection. They think.
—

Oh, my BJ. My girl, I will hold my hand out for you forever and ever, waiting for you to take it. I love you. My lady, I love you so much. I would gladly take your pain on me.

I love you so much. Come back to me.

—
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Why? Why can’t I just have her back now?

Edit - in bed - 12:30:  I forgot to say, what I wanted to all the way home.

Pam pulled her eyelids open, they’re not aligned, or whatever eyes do when they point in the same direction.  They were green this time.  Empty.

She is deep in there.  Thats why she hasn’t responded lately.  I can’t fathom how deep, or what I have to do, but I’ll be here.  Shes my BJ, and every second I spend with her is the greatest joy.  I knew she was deep in there, because she hasn’t been responding.  Now I know why.

As for the why question above?  I’ll answer it:

Cuz.

Works for the boys, should work for me.  I’ve said since the beginning that why is dumb.  Valid, sure.  Useful, no.

I’m cool with Pam, by the way.  The day shift nurse today, Selena, was the opposite of her, and explained Pam in a way that reminded me of BJ.  Pam was very friendly tonight.  I’m glad she showed me her eyes.  Even if the stare will come back years later to haunt me in my sleep.

I have faith, tho, that when that happens, BJ won’t mind me waking her up to look in her eyes.

I can’t not believe.

Nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.

Going to bed for real this time.  Getting too used to being alone in it.

Y’know, I said that I was hijacking the blog from its regular thing for GAC, but this is sorta GAC related.

That this week, the election went the way it did, Rumsfeld gone the way he is, Brittney and K-Fed doing they way they did, would have been such an amusing week.

Way to go, world.  Just do all this funny stuff when I’m not paying attention.

I’ll remember that.

(i love you, baby!)

I’m totally on my own tonight, and the intarweb has my full attentions.  Unless I get bored, or hungry.

I’m planning on a delicious meal of spaghetti.  Its my favorite, since I was but a lad.

I plan on looking at some more of your sites.  I also wanna make a new blogroll with them, call it GAC’s Posse, or something.  I hope you don’t mind the linkage, cuz I’m too lazy to make it temporary.  That, and I don’t ever want to forget you folks.

I plan (less tentatively than before) the epic undertaking of writing our story.  I’ve started it in my head a lot, and I’m curious to see how it will go.  Not that I don’t know how it went, but you know a story.  Sometimes you live it, and not see parts of it until you write it.

I plan on hitting the 8:30 with a spring in my step.

I plan on dozing off around midnight, because sleep isn’t easy.  I still have to pass out, rather than go to sleep.
Wow… its dark in here.  I plan on turning on some lights, and some music.  Actually, now…

Tonights selection is Whirlwind Heat’s Flamingo Honey, an EP collection a run of on 10 one minute songs.  It also makes me dance like I’m jerked around my electricity, as I type.  Course, in 10 minutes I have to figure out what else to listen to.  Its cool, because one side of the record has the music, and the other side has some goofy art etched into it.

We found Whirlwind Heat when they opened for the White Stripes in Cleveland, when BJ was just beginning her school career.  Ironically, she had her first tooth abcess at the time, and was in a great deal of pain, but with that gift that I find many women have, she ignored it.

Seriously, she can take pain.  She broke her finger in the van door… wait, I think I told you about that…

Speaking of abcess, its possible that the one she had over Labor Day may be behind whats happening now.  Its been a moot point, but she has stabilized now to the point that she probably will get that delayed head CT.

I really, REALLY, REALLY want a print out of her brain.  Don’t know why.  I really want it. That would be cool.  Don’t know what I’d do with it, but I’d be willing to grease some palms.
I can’t stress how much better she is.  I mean, yes, she’s very critical, but there’s very critical, and there’s VERY CRITICAL, and she’s just very critical.

Paused to dance like an idiot.  I don’t do this when she’s here, because she makes fun of me.

Man.  I got distracted on Christina’s MRSA story.  I do that pretty easily.  Its nice, and horrifying, to know that this goes on all over, that so many people see it.  I would hate to see somebody I love go through it.

Crap.  Totally lost my train of thought.  And the musics off.

Hmm.  New music.  Lessee…

Bows and Arrows by The Walkmen is the winner, but I’m cheating, because I listened to it yesterday, and listening to the second side (my favorite).  Its nice to see sides of a record, CDs took that away.

—

Ah, BJ.  Lets get to the meat of this, eh?  No since in another massive missive, like last night, huh?  yeah, BJ’ll make fun of me for that one…

My angel, people, is minus one central line!  They have pulled off all but the V pressor (can never remember the name), the Licophan (?) that was quadruple strength is gone, and her BP is 101.  Oh hell yes.  Can I get a hell yes?

Hell yes.

(crap, dancing again … the sheer power of the drumming and chords in The North Pole floors me.  I met the singer and guitarist from the Walkmen, in the briefest, most embarrassingly fanboyish way. I talked about it here, so long ago, in different times.  They didn’t play this song at the show)

So, yes, I’m so excited.  Its time to start thinking about talking about considering maybe thinking about considering counting days until she gets out of the ICU.  She’s going to wake up soon.

She’s going to be restrained, probably tomorrow, for when that happens.  When she wakes up, the first thing she’ll do is try to rip that vent hose out.  Can’t blame her.

I don’t envy her.  I don’t envy her at all, because she hasn’t had the time I have to get used to it.  She doesn’t remember saying good bye to her twice.  She doesn’t remember praying desperately that we can be reunited in Heaven.  She doesn’t remember sobbing with her children, the 9 year old trying not to break down, the 4 year old trying to understand why Dad’s crying.

She’s going to be blind (no glasses), she’s going to feel like shes drowning, but for this one tiny straw pumping air into her body.  She’s going to feel that straw ripped out of her, and she’s going to have to heave and breath and get air in her lungs for the first time in so many days.  Her hands will be tied down.

I know BJ.  I know her backwards and forwards, I know her better now than before, and this is not going to be easy.

Oh, but I’m so happy, I don’t care.  I’ve always tried to hide her from pain, and this is pain that I’ll so happily let her experience.

I’d love to be there, but I know I won’t.  I’d get in the way.  She needs to deal with the nurses, not with me.

I was afraid, the other day, of what I’d lose when she wakes up.  I’m so excited about what I’ll gain.  I’ll have her back, people!  God, I love her!

It is so beautiful.  So damned beautiful.

All for now.  You’re being quiet out there, and I reckon thats OK.  I know you’re still there, because the statcounter don’t lie, but I also know you’re excited also.

I hope you can meet her.  I want to drink beer and cook steak with all of you.  I want our kids to play together in the backyard, while we chat.

BJ, my angel, I will be with you soon.  This is more for me than for you now.  I love you, my woman.  I’ve shed enough tears for lakes.

It is so worth it.

I love you, woman.

“We’ll have bizarre celebrations”

Yes, the song of the day is Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games by Of Montreal. We had the sublime pleasure of seeing them perform in Chattanooga a few months ago, me, GAC, and MastaG (along with Katybug and my mother …damama, evidently…) and had a damn good time. It was completely the best show ever. Glitter paint on the eyes, wierd things with samurai swords, the music of a band that is in the peak of their career, belting it out. Friggin awesome.

I went to the trouble of finding this, although its on MTV, which sucks, and its a video I haven’t seen, which is never as good as the MP3. Turn the monitor off and enjoy. Pretend that you don’t recognize it from an Outback Steakhouse commercial, because GAC gets REALLY pissed about that. Everybody’s gotta make a buck.

Anyway, I’m working backwards today, for the hell of it.

I’m dancing like a spastic jitterbug, to Of Montreal’s The Sunlandic Twins. I’m sucking it up, and listening to it on CD, because the THRICE DAMNED CATS destroyed the LP while we were at our wedding renewal a few weeks ago, and its too scratched to listen to. Normally, I’d close the blinds at a time like this, but I don’t care

“May we never go go.. mental, may we always stay stay… gentle”

Damn right, Of Montreal. Damn right.

The dancing also convinced me that I can have that beer I was thinking of. Its been water most of the day, because I’ve been feeling a tad dehydrated, and I’m understanding that it wouldn’t do GAC much good for me to get sick now.

For that reason, I woke up from a nap at 3:40, having missed the 3 o’clock show with a great deal of discomfort.

Hmm. Backwards isn’t working too well. Point is I was so… exhausted… coming back from the 1 o’clock show. I had been to the arboreum, as I said, and did find the beauty, but I was too tired to remember what it looked like. I did take pictures, lets see how they turned out.

 





When I returned from my journey in the arboreum, I was tired. I felt good.  I deposited some checks at the bank from friends I never knew I had.  Its hard, to accept gifts from strangers.  If I didn’t do it, it’d be pride, and stupid pride at that, because we’ll need it.  I won’t be able to work full time for a while, because of schedules, and the boys.

People give.  Money has always been a bone of contention for me, and as such I find taking it, unfortunately, too necessary so often, but also so hard to do.  It can break a part of you.

I reckon that part is pride.

The CD is almost done, and on my favorite song.

The chorus is coming up.

But don’t don’t lose hope no no no no
No no no don’t feel sad ’cause it’s a violent world
But there’s still beauty
I’ll take care of you if you take care of me

I’m going to steal a second of AT’s blog time to express gratitude for the love and support shown here by all of you.  I love my brother and his family, and it’s been hell watching him go through this.  I don’t know if he would have handled it nearly as well as he has without this outlet.  It has occurred to us at the Blueberry Farm (his mom, dad, myself and my husband), that there might be someone out there who still uses snail mail and would like to send Jake well-wishes on real paper.  I don’t think posting a physical address is the best idea, and we haven’t really discussed this with him, but we figured that using our address would be fine.  Dad has had it on our website for a few years, so it might as well be public knowledge.