Atomictumor

Time that is. Hmm… that title mad more sense in my head.

Just saw GAC for the 10 o’clock show.  Nurses were friendly (new one, and I know, I said I wouldn’t care, but its nice that they’re friendly).  Eaves was there.

GAC’s feet and right hand were doing better.  Left still, blissfully, showing no signs of circulatory problems, which means she can keep drafting, drawing, writing, everything else.  Woot!

Brain scan was taken with regards to the twitching, to make sure they weren’t seizures.  They didn’t show seizure activity, but they twitching would kinda have to be happening to show anything, and they weren’t, so, there you go.

Brain activity was a little lower than normal.  The nurse was quick to jump into the reasons why that’d be, but I think its OK.  I don’t think GAC would pull through without that magna-intelligence she liked to joke about.  She’s totally smarter than me, by a long shot.  Reading at 3.  IQ of like, I dunno, high.  3.9 GPA, which was –almost– done with.

All the rest of the stuff was hunky dory.  I’m not doing numbers, because they’re not going down, and they’re not going up too fast.

Oh, yeah, White Blood Cell count was a little higher, like 28k, or something.

Don’t care.  I really don’t.

I *think* she squeezed my hand, but she’s really deep in there, so it may have been a twitch.  Its OK too.

When I left, her hand was squeezing ever so lightly to the tune of her pulse.  It was welcome, just to have that pressure.

Its a beautiful day outside.  My Accuweather bar in Firefox here says its sunny and 54, with a high of 72 expected.  Perfect day for some arboretum.

Its picture day. I’m draggin the camera with me, and taking pictures.  I’ll show you later.

“Wastin’ my time
Lord, wastin’ my time
No ambition but to waste some more
Wastin my time
Lord, wastin my time, wastin’ my time…
Passing me by, Lord, passing me by.
Time ain’t waitin’ just moving on.
Passing me by, Lord, passing me by.
Marble and stone.
Lord, marble and stone
I keep losin’ won’t never win.
Marble and stone, Marble and stone”

Eagles of Death Metal - Please Love Death Metal.

Its not death metal, tho.  Thats the joke.

Later folks.

I love you, sweet girl.

Today will be a good day.

I will continue not to beat myself up.

To add to that, I will not care about the nurses.  I will trust that BJ’s health is trucking along without my consent.  Informed decision is a great phrase, as a friend commented, but as I don’t really make any decisions (”well, I reckon I’ll take’er home today” probably wouldn’t fly).

So, those two things.

I might be talking to an insurance caseworker about the money.  My insurance says that inpatient services are 100% covered.  Luckily, I will be in the hospital if I find out differently, and have that cardiac arrest.

Mom was saying to me earlier that she’s a little worried about that, me being 28, probably about 30 or 40 lbs overweight (tho, as one of the charts I peeked at a few years ago while I was getting treatment for acid reflux said “He doesn’t look that fat cause he’s so tall”), with not the best diet (lot of meat/fat, not a whoooole lot of veggies/goodstuff).

Shes sweet to worry about me.  I almost want to add another thing up there, that I can make this about myself today, but that might just wait for tomorrow.

CCR’s done.  Time to split.

Sweet girl, sweet sweet girl, I sure do love you.  I love you so much.  It was good seeing you smile last night, you little critter.

What really woke me up at 4:30ish last night, was a glimpse I had.

It was a dark night, I was standing by the drivers door of the van.  We were in a parking lot, it wasn’t very lit.

I saw her across from me, near the passenger fender of the van.  She had her blue “Of Montreal” tshirt on, and was giving me her sweet smile.

It was so fleetingly quick, because the shock of seeing her woke me right up.  I had time to see the beauty, the play of light and dark in her face that I’ve talked about befre. Her sweet smile.  It was the smile she gives me after I tell her something cute, or sweet.  Her “I love you too” smile.

It was so nice to see. I’m crying again, and I didn’t do that yesterday, just because of a glimpse, that could have been memory, or could have been her, or could have been God.

That was in all likelihood some sort of combo.

She’s on dialysis again, like yesterday morning.  She’s tolerating it well, again.  Today will be another good day, after some coffee, and a shower.  I’ll still get to see the 10 o’clock show.

Guys, I really miss her. Thats one of the nice things about being in an empty house right now, and one of the excruciating things.  I can’t tell you what I’d do or give to see that smile, now, on her face, now.  Here.  Not in a parking lot.

But that was enough for a while.

Last nght, before I went to bed, I found this at a friend’s site.  She’d totally hate it.  She has a low self image, as I imagine is common among her gender.  She never lost a lot of the weight after the kids, and understands that I still find her amazingly attractive, even if she doesn’t, but thinks its just cuz I love her.

This also doesn’t do justice to her skills with the devil sticks.  With her pair, which her hands have trained, she’s very talented.  It wouldn’t hit the ground unless she wanted it to.  She’d send it up, higher than the roof of the house.  She’d be able to chuck it to me, and I’d throw it back to her for her to catch with the sticks, yaaaaay.

I’d sit on the porch and drink a beer and admire her.

—

Today’s going to be a good day.  I’m aimless.  One of the things that worked yesterday was taking Pigpen to school, so maybe I’ll drive that way anyway.

Thanks, you guys, for sticking around. Let me show you something.

Wow.

You folks are helping me through this in a way I can’t describe.  I tell her about it, because while I did the lions share of the posts, I always loved it when she wrote.

I love you, BJ.  Everyday brings us closer together.  I will wait for you, with this love, and this anticipation, patiently, forever if I have to.

I love you, sweet girl.

Sigh.

Its been bugging me since midnight.

The new nurse, Pam, by really no action other than being distant, made me realize how incidental I am to the healing process.  Yes, I understand my voice makes a huge difference, and that she can hear me.  I can’t bear to hear what I’m probably imagining in her voice when she says “critical, but stable”, which is the mantra the hospital seems to have come up with to ward me off.

It shuts me up.  I want more, like liver function, BP, creatnine.  When’s the next dialysis, when treatments are.  Whats next, what can we do next?  I want to be a team, but they’re a team, I’m just a tangent.  A very important tangent to BJ, but a useless one to them.

They’re not paid to treat me.

I want to call to find out if they’re going to nail her with dialysis early in the morning again, but I don’t want to hear it.  I’ll call anyway, and man, the thing is, I really do think I’m imagining this stuff.  That its me wanting more, denying the fact that the upward trend was just her not dying anymore, not her getting better.  She isn’t getting much better yet, she’s just not getting WORSE.

WTF?  Freakin mind games?  Seriously?

Sigh.

Tomorrow will be a good day.

I’ve slept alone for a week, and its getting to me.

I love you so much BJ.  I love you.  It’s 4:55 in the morning, and I miss you bad.

Nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.

I love you.