Dear Burk,
You had a better night. Your temp is down. The pneumonia isn't a "bad case". The swelling and bleeding in all your limbs you've had surgery on is "normal". There is no increased swelling in your brain.
You had a tracheotomy this morning. I've seen one before on TV. You know on ER when the person is crashing and one of the doctors shoves a ball point pen through their neck. Yours was just more sterile and without the ball point pen.
They took out your breathing tube freeing your mouth to try and communicate more. You still can't talk.
Dad and Kelli got there just after you got the trach. No one told us they were doing it early this morning. Things change so often it's hard to keep track of what is happening and when. I doubt they would have let anyone be in the room anyway. Maybe dad.
The occupational therapist came while Dad and Kelli were there. She let them stay in the room. They untied you (very brave) and had you sit up. They asked you to move certain limbs and you did everything right. Then they gave you a pen and paper. She asked you what month it was. Answer: January. She asked you what year it was. Blank stare. Didn't write anything down. She asked if you knew where you were. Answer: Rehab. She replied "Well, that's close." Then Kelli piped in and said "He means drug rehab, not physical rehab." You still have no idea where you are or why people are doing what they're doing to you. But you are still under sedation and heavy pain medication so we're not taking any of your answers at full value.
Kelli says you're less agitated today. But you're still trying to get her to "free" you. They now have a mitten on your left hand because you kept grabbing the side of your bed and pulling on it which is bad for the surgery they did on that arm. It's amazing all the ways they can restrain a person. We try to explain that the more calm you are, the quicker you'll be untied. This doesn't seem to tame you.
I didn't make it over today. I had a doctor appointment (for the love, please no more hospitals) to check on the baby invader in my stomach. I keep forgetting I'm pregnant. The nurse couldn't find a heartbeat. Neither could the doctor. As the doctor kept searching I thought "great Burk, you killed my baby." And then I told God that if he took my baby, we weren't going to be on speaking terms for a long time. The doctor finally had to do an ultrasound and the second we saw the baby the little stink was kicking its legs. Apparently it's "very active" and the doc could never get it to hold still long enough to find a heart beat. Everything was fine. Phew. After that I wasn't in the mood for any more hospitals today. So I'll be by tomorrow. I'm very curious to see the hole in the throat.
Still no idea how long you'll be in the ICU. I'm not sure what milestones you have to reach before you "graduate" to a different floor. I'll find all that out tomorrow when I come visit.
Mom came this afternoon, went home for an hour, then came back. One of my friends had just been there and she dropped off a "huge" (as mom described it) basket full of treats to leave in your hospital room for all of your visitors to snack on. It was thoughtful and a sacrifice of time, effort, and money on her part. Situations like this quickly identify the people in our lives who really care. Luckily we are surrounded by a lot of those types of people.
See you tomorrow. Maybe I'll untie you for a second and see what happens. Then again, maybe not.
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