Moving Day

A day filled with WINS! This picture is a testament that our fiercely independent and sweetly sarcastic boy is still hiding within the broken body and foggy mind. His moments of awareness and clarity are improving, and his short term memory is slowly piecing itself back together. After six days we were able to say goodbye to the ICU and hello to the Acute Care floor!

When I arrived today I said "Hi hon, how are you feeling today?" His reply was "Well, she just pulled something out of my penis, so not too good." I had to smirk...see note above about sweetly sarcastic. In addition to his catheter being removed, the swelling in his right arm and hand have improved a lot. Tristan was able to go short stints today without his oxygen which was a major improvement. Not only did he eat a few bites of eggs this morning for breakfast, but he remembered what he had eaten. For lunch he drank a bit of a yogurt smoothie, had a few bites of apple sauce, and a couple of bites of orange sherbet. He asked for a snack a couple of hours later and the nurse brought a container of yogurt. He took two bites, closed his eyes, and said "That shit's fire." For anyone in my age range and above, that means it's the bomb-diggity.

The nurse told me they had sat Tristan in a chair for a bit this morning to get him in a different position. Apparently, when he was left unsupervised for a few minutes, he helped himself back to bed...see note above about fiercely independent. This concerned me because we had been told he would be non-weight bearing for six weeks, but they informed me today that he had been upgraded to weight bearing as tolerated. Fantastic news!

Tristan was fully cooperative with taking his pain medication today, and was able to swallow the pills without it causing a coughing attack. He is still coughing up bloody phlegm, however, so the coughing is encouraged. He's now taking Robaxin (muscle relaxer) and Oxycodone, and they are alternating Tylenol and Ibuprofen as well. His pain was far better today and he was able to sleep well enough a few times that he was producing the same "percolator" snores as someone else I won't name (Jon).

The highlight of the day was when we moved from the 9th floor to the 7th. Knowing he's stable enough to leave the ICU brings me such incredible relief that I feel I might actually get some sleep tonight. The move happened right before visiting hours were over, so I wasn't able to spend much time with him there, but knowing we don't have to go back to the ICU for future visits is such a gift.

Things can always be worse. This is what Jon and I remind each other of frequently when things are less than ideal. Over the last two years one of our dogs has had three knee surgeries. Corbin's car has had catastrophic breakdowns that have resulted in us literally paying for the car three times over because the repairs have still been less expensive than trying to buy a used car in a COVID market. Throughout the months of sleeping on the couch with a dog who couldn't do stairs, we kept saying "it could always be worse", and it could have been. In our 27 years together there have been so many ups and downs, but we've always known it could be worse. I can honestly say this is by far the most painful and horrifying thing we have gone through in those years, but even now I still know it could be worse. We could be living in a country that is in a war it never asked for. We could be living in a third world country that doesn't have the medical technology and care we do. It could have taken moments longer for Tristan to arrive at Harborview and he wouldn't be with us. No matter how bad things are, remember that it can always be worse. Hug the people you love and tell them you love them. We don't say it enough, and you can't say it too much.