So here we are — the day after. Poor Bo is in a new kind of pain and has tubes coming out of places he’d rather not mention. When the spasms come, I hold his hands (to keep them busy) and calm him till they pass. The nurse brings pain pills and we struggle to get him to swallow — not chew them — and then hope the pains are less intense.
But it’s over and now the recovery starts. Bo has no idea about any of this, none. He smiles and eats (we feed him because he would use his hands, not a fork or spoon) and he holds his drink. Jon brought him a big bowl of salted pretzel caramel ice cream from his store, which he enjoys and he’s had enough ginger ale to fill a pool.
A young resident came in earlier today to check Bo and as he was bending over him asking him to breathe deeply (never happened) Bo played with his stethoscope. “What is that?” he asked as I watched in amusement. “Do you have a three-year-old?” I asked the resident. “No,” he replied, “but I like children.” I smiled.
I got a good night’s sleep last night in my own bed at home while Jon did duty here. Now it’s my turn to spend the day — oops! there goes my night tonight! — but that’s OK. We’re on the road to going home in a day or so.