Update...

Dad to rehab as soon as there's a bed available. WB gave me something to read about the aftermath of ICU stays. Mom is with him 25 out of 24 hours. She's like a little humming bird. She flits around dad doing things that the nurses and the doctors tell her to do.  I can still see her face when dad was first coming allert. Her face right next to his asking him, "Do you know me?"  She looks at him and then points to me, "Do you know who that is?" Everyone is monitoring for focus and lucidity. Watching each breath and then for the next. Preachers come and go and pray over us and over dad. The pray outloud and I silently pray for them to ,"Go away." We all have our "game faces" on.  We're determined to think good thoughts. We pray. We make foolish promises to God if he'll just let dad live. I let my optimistic side believe that he's just playing possum. He's mad at me for going my own way.

Any minute he's going to sit up and yell, "Fooled you."

I'm exhausted. My mom is exhausted. My brother yells at me later  about my not being around.  Outside of the ICU the game face melts and old horrors surface.

Each of us sure that the other is either an idiot or a selfish prick.

from

Live From the ICU

c anne ford, 2-16-11

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