“How are you?” We ask each other every day. I mean it would be easy to say I am NOT good. Not good at all. And I wouldn’t be lying.
I tell myself life goes on. We can’t pause through the bad parts. But in a way we have. Our lives are different.
Last night they left David on his back instead of flipping him, to see if he could hold his own.
He did. And today they moved him to a normal bed. When I got there, it was a little scary. They had weaned him fully from the paralytic and he was on only half of the sedation. Which looked like him being stuck between the past and present.
They had restraints on his wrists to prevent his spontaneous movements from pulling out his tubes.
The nurse paused sedation for probably around an hour. And the RT(respiratory therapist) paused the ventilation. He was breathing on his own. Spontaneous movements increased.
Watching him was excruciating. And listening to alarm beeps all day reminding those watching to “take notice” and “be careful.”
They showed me how to read the ventilator that was no longer giving him life but monitoring his breathing. It was very inconsistent. More than I could count, were the times it seemed as though ‘he forgot to breath’ and then he would move and breath.
Excruciating....
Steps forward, yes. But process was not for the feeble minded.
Hannah reminded me this morning before leaving that braveness was not the absence of fear. It’s being enveloped in fear, bravely.
Did I have a brave face? Well the nurse told me several times ‘just breathe.’ So I’m going to go with, I didn’t ‘look’ very brave. But I didn’t run away. I was there, sitting through fear, bravely, being reminded to ‘just breathe.’
I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid if I left he would wake up and I wouldn’t be there. The nurse told me this was the hardest part of the whole process. As if those other things weren’t hard beginning 18 days ago.
The process is not pretty but it’s necessary. And he will not truly wake up for the next step, four days minimum. And they would call me if he did.
I left, reluctantly, knowing I had kids to love and reassure. And here I am, home with my peeps. Exhausted. Probably more emotional than physical. And we are together, absent one; feeding off the energy and love of one another. Quietly. But love and rest is felt through and through.
He’s not out of the woods. He remains in ICU. One step at a time, painful though it may be, to hopefully another day. But I would take a million another days of painful recovery than none at all.
Hope remains.
I tell myself life goes on. We can’t pause through the bad parts. But in a way we have. Our lives are different.
Last night they left David on his back instead of flipping him, to see if he could hold his own.
He did. And today they moved him to a normal bed. When I got there, it was a little scary. They had weaned him fully from the paralytic and he was on only half of the sedation. Which looked like him being stuck between the past and present.
They had restraints on his wrists to prevent his spontaneous movements from pulling out his tubes.
The nurse paused sedation for probably around an hour. And the RT(respiratory therapist) paused the ventilation. He was breathing on his own. Spontaneous movements increased.
Watching him was excruciating. And listening to alarm beeps all day reminding those watching to “take notice” and “be careful.”
They showed me how to read the ventilator that was no longer giving him life but monitoring his breathing. It was very inconsistent. More than I could count, were the times it seemed as though ‘he forgot to breath’ and then he would move and breath.
Excruciating....
Steps forward, yes. But process was not for the feeble minded.
Hannah reminded me this morning before leaving that braveness was not the absence of fear. It’s being enveloped in fear, bravely.
Did I have a brave face? Well the nurse told me several times ‘just breathe.’ So I’m going to go with, I didn’t ‘look’ very brave. But I didn’t run away. I was there, sitting through fear, bravely, being reminded to ‘just breathe.’
I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid if I left he would wake up and I wouldn’t be there. The nurse told me this was the hardest part of the whole process. As if those other things weren’t hard beginning 18 days ago.
The process is not pretty but it’s necessary. And he will not truly wake up for the next step, four days minimum. And they would call me if he did.
I left, reluctantly, knowing I had kids to love and reassure. And here I am, home with my peeps. Exhausted. Probably more emotional than physical. And we are together, absent one; feeding off the energy and love of one another. Quietly. But love and rest is felt through and through.
He’s not out of the woods. He remains in ICU. One step at a time, painful though it may be, to hopefully another day. But I would take a million another days of painful recovery than none at all.
Hope remains.
Love love
Doll face
Shoog
Sugar
Shelli
Michelle...y (things he calls me...)
Wonderful news! The steps forward sound like great progress. Continual prayers for the process!!
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