Hello and greetings from the land of swabs, suction tubes, and emesis basins. Some fun stuff, too, like getting to laugh at your husband while he's forced to wear one of those ugly hospital gowns .... and laughing a little more when you realize he keeps flashing the nurse every time he moves and is on too many drugs to even care. :) Actually, he's a very modest guy and he'll be upset to hear that later. I should probably go back and delete it. Naw, I'm too tired and the backspace button is too far away.
Things here are ..... OK (spoken cautiously). Blaine is still in intensive care; staying a little longer than planned, not because anything is wrong, but more of a "better safe than sorry" philosphy. He is off the ventilator, but his airways are pretty obstructed with the swelling, clotting, tissue engraftment and enough packing to stuff Dolly Parton's bra. Truly, if I had ever considered getting a nose job, or any type of facial reconstruction, well, I won't go into gory detail but let's just say that after watching some of *that* work being done today, I'll be withdrawing my application to The Swan.
He looks (and apparently feels) like death warmed over, to be honest. Lots of swelling and bruising .... much like someone took a baseball bat to his face. Hopefully tomorrow (day 3) some of that will start to recede. In the meatime, I'm hopeful that no police officers wander by his room or I'm sure I'll be arrested for spousal abuse. He's on a lot of pain medication and asking for lots more --- thank goodness he wasn't of age in the 1960's or I fear he would have been lost to the "Light Up and Be Happy" generation.
Tubes everywhere, monitors beeping, an incision on his neck that's going to look like someone tried to strangle him, disgusting gurgling noises that just make me INSANE, lots of oozing ..... tonight I had really started to think about how much this stinks and feel sorry for us, when three women walked past our doorway from another ICU room, all of them crying. And suddenly, it's all in perspective again. We are LUCKY. We are not in ICU *hoping* that Blaine gets better. We are in ICU *waiting* for him to get better and I have the luxury of knowing that he will. Sure, he looks like shit and feels like shit NOW, but in just a few weeks he'll be back at home, playing with the kids and taking some more good-natured ribbing from me about how one side of his face looked like Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
Now, if I could just figure out a way to keep that damn gown closed, life would be perfect. :)
Thanks for checking in. You guys are really sustaining me and I appreciate it.