Today was our first full day at home, and it felt nice to wake up next to Jon. I got up earlier than him and took Fisher downstairs so he wouldn't bother Jon. He was able to sleep in without nurses interrupting his sleep ;)
His night was okay. As usual, he had a slight fever that went up and down like a roller coaster. Although he was able to take a shower, it took a lot of energy out of him, so he had to rest before conquering our stairs--or "Everest," as Jon has began to call them since he has come home from the hospital.
Jon had a good day hanging out on the couch and watching 3 consecutive Indiana Jones movies on the SyFy channel. For lunch, he asked for a Subway club, ate 3/4 of it right away, and finished the rest of it later. He also snacked on things through out the day: a Special K protein shake and Texas caviar (something similar to this), packed with beans for some healthy vegetable (Jen-approved) protein. He finished off the night by spending some quality time with Seth. They watched True Grit.
Back to work for me in the morning. Mrs. Sue will be stopping by to check on him while I am working, so tomorrow's post will come from her :)
By nature, I'm a worrier, so I take comfort in the normal, everyday stuff Anne includes in her posts--what Jon eats for lunch, what he watches on TV, who he visits with, even what mischief Fisher is up to--because they remind me that, even in the midst of this disconcerting, crazy time, there are certain constants that help hold us together. We eat. We rest. We visit with family and friends. We run to Subway and Panera and Safeway to bring each other the things we think will provide the comfort they need. We text each other. We buy groceries. We go to work. We plan a wedding. We pick classes for next year. We bake chicken for the first time (Dave's still in shock). We watch baseball and Meet the Press and fishing shows and The Wizards of Waverly Place.
ReplyDeleteWe laugh, too--as wrong as it sometimes feels--because we need to. For people like Jon, laughter comes easy. He laughs often and he laughs loud and he makes other people laugh. He asks his nurse where the pool and all the other fun stuff is in the hospital. He tells me that the fluid from his lungs looks a lot like water from the pond I pushed him in when we were kids. Without even opening his eyes, he tells Anne and I that dilaudin is spelled "c-o-m-a" and later asks a slightly-scandalized nurse for more to share. Humor comes naturally to Jon because, in spite of all he's been through and all he's going through, he doesn't let himself take life too seriously. The laughter that comes from him and surrounds him is proof of that--and it's one of those constants I count on. As easy as laughter comes to Jon, it doesn't to me. I look to people like him to tell me when all those terrible things I'm always so stressed about are actually worth stressing about and when I'm just being a big storm cloud of unnecessary pessimism. When he laughs, it tells me there's really nothing to worry about.
I know Jon would agree with me that the concern I feel right now is warranted, but I also know that he has and will continue to find about a hundred different ways to make it all feel a little less heavy. Just like I need the reassurance of normal, everyday stuff, I need laughter. I need Jon. We all do.