As the past few days have gone by, I have felt tremendous relief as I've watched you regain your strength. Your color looks like you've been out in the sun, and tonight you walked up and down the hallways dragging your IV along with you. You had a nice brisk pace but there is still something very not right with you. Your eyes are still dull, you seem sad and withdrawn. You told me you don't like not knowing whether or not you'll be alive in 15 days. I don't know if that's a number you plucked out of the air, but I found it to be curious. It has begun to gnaw at me, this not really knowing. Will we know for sure after your surgery on Wednesday?
Laura and boyfriend arrived at 7:30. As I showed her the pictures from your endoscopy, I began to understand them better. There is a large cyst in your liver and shadows behind some of the other ultrasound shots, especially the pancreas, but there were no notations around them. Perhaps they are normal shadows. I could see how there was a shiny film over the food that was trapped in your stomach, the film that encapsulated the food that spurted out of your mouth and nose when Charles inserted the nasalgastric tube. You felt it had been like a bubble, and tonight I saw what you meant.
We sort of watched the World Series game. At times you were excited, interested and making comments. At other times you were quiet and withdrawn. You ate scads of TicTacs and we poured lots of Sprite over ice cubes. Finally, one of the nurse's aides brought you an entire pitcher of ice. It saved us all a lot of work. You even drank some of the Sprite; you'd never done that before.
I was so tired today. We set the clocks back last night. It's always a bit of a tough transition.
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