Friends are daily miracles

Forget Water Baby-- yesterday was insane.  Since there is no way I'm posting a picture, just watch HP-3--Prisoner of Azkaban.  I was Aunt Marge.  Several times I would have been happy to be punctured and my memory modified.

We started right off with a blown IV so my Toredol dosage went all over my hand instead.  IV woman came (amazingly good).  Put another one in.  Then, it fell out.  Remember how much I like blood.  She came back.  Had to try two sites to get it in, but did.  Reminded everyone to take my BP in the other arm.

Mid morning had a trach crisis.  Well, it was only a crisis to me.  My Oxygen never went below 98, but feeling like you can't breathe is a big freak out.  The amazing Darla managed to calm me down.  I thought I wouldn't pull it together.  But Michael and Lesley drove up from Eugene to visit.  They brought some cheery and practical gifts, including a cute solar dancing pumpkin guy and some obnoxious clapping hands for the benefit of the call desk.  They were perfect. They could keep up a distracting conversation for me to participate in, entertained themselves while I nodded off, took a spin of the floor and got me back to a happy place.  The nurse was really impressed with them too.

The early evening brought a return of the breathing issues and they brought up the respiratory therapist.  They re-inflated the trach, and, using something that looked like a scale model of the Hindenburg, forced air down into the trach.  He deflated the trach and was on his way.  He was great.  The  later hour of hacking to get out what was dislodged no fun.  Desiree was my night nurse for the third time.  By the time I got it up, we were both crying.  Everything has been better since then.

The daily parade of doctors has been interesting.  They say one thing to the nurse and I,  but then  the orders come in different and the nurse has to chase them down for answers.  They are unsure if the flap took or not. We are still waiting and watching.  I would really like this trach out, and not have to have another flap done.  Not going there at this point.

Overall I feel pretty good.  Kelly brought a stack of get well cards and some creature comforts from home. The nurses have been fantastic.  My room has an amazing view.  I can walk the floor and sit up in a chair. They put me down for massage therapy tomorrow.

The stuff that goes in the feeding tube is a chemical cocktail of stuff I haven't eaten either ever or in years and years.  Lots of soya and corn syrup solids and Canola.  No wonder my stomach isn't thrilled with it.  Hoping to meet with the nutritionist and see what other options there are.

I've never been really good at listening to my body or the universe.  13 years of public school-- never used the bathroom.  Don't recognize hungry, tired, thirsty or need to go to the bathroom.  I really can't explain it. Kelly crossed my path many times in 30 years yet I couldn't hear the message.  A school nurse once told me, "I've never seen a teacher get such an extreme student every year.  The universe is trying to tell you something."  At another school, the custodian said, "I can pick out the kids you'll have as if they had a J stamped on their forehead."  What does this all mean?  In 1st grade I said I wanted to be an author when I grew up.  Now I'll largely be an author every day of my life.  I wish I could learn to hear these messages before I have to be bludgeoned with them.  Ideas?

Thanks to everyone for all the help, the cards, flowers, prayers, thoughts, general encouragements, positive energy and especially love.  Couldn't have done it without you (well, and the doctors, nurses and teams of people.)

Love,
Kiara