We went to see Jim twice today: once in the early afternoon and once in the evening. I like to go twice so I can meet both nurses- the day nurse and the night nurse- and make sure he doesn't get another Little Miss Sunshine because then I'd have to choke a bitch. The afternoon nurse was a male nurse- very nice guy- named Jason. When we got there they had us wait a couple of minutes because they took out his breathing tube. Now he's just down to an oxygen mask. He's still got goop in his lungs...some from the trauma of the surgery and some of the nicotine that's left in there. Jim was in quite a bit of pain but very responsive. Jason came right away with some morphine and got him hooked up. Jim didn't feel like writing but can communicate with the "looks" he gives you and with his hands. He was trying to talk. He asked me what happened again. The morphine makes you forget so I went through the story again, but also checked if he could remember things from before the surgery, and he could. Since my timing is always great, in comes Dr. Dolan while we were there. Dr. Dolan explained that in hindsight should they maybe have tied off the carotid to begin with? Yeah, maybe. But that can cause a stroke so they decided they didn't want to take that chance. In the end, though, that's what they had to do. And thank God he never passed his swallowing tests because if this had happened at home he would have been a goner.
Kind of a funny story here...we noticed that there was a State Trooper standing outside one of the rooms today. I made a joke and said maybe he was here to keep me in line. It turns out some nutjob in the area stabbed some relative ran out into the snow afterwards in his underwear. They brought his dumb ass to Lahey Clinic, but he's under arrest, so the trooper is in charge of guarding him, and he's handcuffed to his bed.
Tonight Jim was a little more responsive because his pain was under better control. He didn't feel like writing again but could still communicate with his face and hands. Again he asked me what happened, and I told him. But I keep testing him with things that happened before the "event" and he's o.k. I can understand if he's blocked the trauma. I just want to make sure he's still got his marbles, and he does. I told him to watch out for the crazy dude in the room across the hall.
Everyone's been great asking if they can do anything for me, but all I want is to get my husband back home and Jimmy back home and myself back home and be a family again. This whole thing is getting very discouraging and very depressing. Maybe I should call for a psych consult for myself. It's actually making me physically feel lousy..."mushy mushy" like my step-father says. I'm going to crawl under the covers now and try to get a good night's sleep.
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