Atomictumor

I had a mighty peaceful sleep last night.  Exhaustion hit me at about 10, and I hit the hay.  Woke up maybe once, but I did it with no memory of all this.  When I remembered, it wasn’t a sad thing, like it was earlier in the week, just more of a “dammit” thing.  Like you wake up remembering you’re spending the night somewhere you don’t really wanna be.

I’m not beating myself up anymore, and I’m getting pretty good at it.  It’d be easy to feel bad, because right now the depth of my emotion for BJ is locked pretty deep in here.  I could probably read posts from a week ago and cry, but why do it?  I mean, what good would that do?  It’d prove I still have a nervous system?  That I’m still human?

I still think, tho, that if I squint my eyes and tilt my head and click my shoes together three times, she’d walk in the bedroom door from the bathroom, look at me weird for writing a post in bed, and climb in obliviously.  All of the wishes, and hopes, and dreams I’ve had in my life (bigger house, none of those day to day worries, cool stuff for the kids, a Stella, peace on earth) combined wouldn’t give me the glee that her coming in here without any knowledge of this would.

I guess the love isn’t far off, I just have to diffuse it through something to see it properly.  She’s such a wonderful, sweet, perfect (to me) little girl.  I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate all of the build up…

—

No news is good news.  At the 8:30 show, Pam was friendly, and talkative.  She didn’t have to be, I’m at a different place than I was when I was so angry at her.  She figures I’m in my angry phase, and I figure I’ve blown by that.  I’m at phase tango - intellectual acceptance, emotional peace, weird cosmic understanding, sleeping decently through the night, writing posts that make very little sense.

Last night, Mrs Daco and Daco mistook what I said about the phone bringing my greatest fear, to mean that my greatest fear came to pass.  Nooooo no no no.  No.  Truth is, (from a scientific perspective) her body is humming right along.  Urine output is still HUGE.  She’s getting fed a choclate mike paste, which reminds me of Yoo-hoo.  Remember those old ads for yoo-hoo?

Calcuim? - YOO HOO!
Potassium? - YOO HOO!

And on and on.  When she was in the ER, before all this, and the docs said they were giving her potassium, that was a joke we both made at the same time.  I snickered to myself when I saw the bag, because I knew damn well that BJ’d get the joke.  She probably hasn’t yet, but she’s deep in there.

I’m content with not knowing anything for a few days/weeks about her head.  I know, from my head to my toes, that she’ll pull through.

My only worry is when she wakes up, missing some knuckles, and (sigh) probably toes, big ol’ Mr Potato Head scar on her belly, muscles atrophied, vent in her mouth, maybe unable to move a side of her body, or think clearly.  Its for her, because I don’t know what she’ll remember, and ain’t that a kick in the teeth when you first wake up???

I’m afraid she won’t understand why the hell I’m bawling like an idiot to see her eyes open, when shes tring to figure out where the fuck her fingers went.

But seriously guys, I’m not that afraid.  Like examinations, or taxes, you can dread em, but they come anyway.

Also, seriously guys, I mean what I say about the peace.  I hear the rain coming down outside, and its going to be a beautiful day.

—

Little BJ.  My sweet, sweet, perfect little critter.  I’ll he holding you an about an hour.  You might be late, because you’re coming back from that head CT, and we’ll see if the bleed is expansive.  I hope not, but I’ll just be happy to see you.

I love you, BJ.  I love you, pretty girl.