rick for sonya. Last night, under the cover of darkness, Gay was promoted up out of ICU, to the distinguished 11th floor. Great news. She’s in the neighborhood now, just 6 rooms down.
She promptly celebrated by having various nasty tubes removed, sitting upright in a chair, and by taking a brief saunter down the high gloss boulevard. All tests are great and folks in those two-piece blue or green color unis all brag on how well she is doing. If you’re going to have a monster string of shining staples all the way across you, you might as well be the talk on the street.
Sonya has had a discouraging day thus far. She had a great evening yesterday, and actually talked briefly with Meagan and Andrew for the first time since surgery. But the night was another exhausting affair. At one point in the darkness she glanced at the clock. When she realized it was 6:00 am she thought “Wow. Great. I slept through the night.” Then she looked again and realized it was 12:30am. That’s one way to define “miserable.”
By the time I came to the hospital around 7am she had a terrible headache and was feeling nauseous . She rallied to take a shower, and changed into her own PJs. (can’t say we’re going to miss those well ventilated split green hospital gowns. They should at least make them with velcro.) All of her vitals are great, and blood/liver results are fine, too. But she is miserable. So they are keeping her here tonight, a decision that brought us great relief. Evidently liver donors struggle with great nausea, and the second day after surgery can be difficult.
Part of the Hippocratic oath around here is to let no one go undisturbed for more than 30 minutes. So even now, as she’s quite uncomfortable and trying to hide her misery with sleep, there is some guy riding a big floor sweeper down the boulevard, and it is loud (This rig is sort of like a Zamboni if you’ve ever been to an ice hockey game.) Round and round the floor he roars. If you want to imagine it, pretend you have a splitting headache and all the kids in the neighborhood are roller skating around your bed, occasionally stopping to shake you to nicely inquire what your pain level is, from 1-10.
She is sleeping now, which is the best relief of all. Bless her heart. Pray for her stomach to return to normal and for the doctors to come up with good meds to help the nausea.
The stroll down to the other end of the neighborhood to reunite with Gay has been slightly delayed.