Saturday, December 22, 2007

Cycles of Season, Memory and Recovery

Yup, thats Leo, putting on a very brave face after being rousted outta the hospital bed and into a chair. And, yes: that arcing line just above the sheet is his incision, reaching from one side to the other.

Leo woke up this morning observing that it had seemed like an extremely long night; I reminded him that it had been the Solstice, the longest night of the year, and that everything would get lighter and brighter from here. Of course, in addition to it being the beginning of longer, brighter days, it is also the beginning of the long, hard work of recovery.

Not surprisingly, everything hurts at this point: any movement, and every inch from head to toe. Guess theres no way around that where major surgery is involved. He finds himself in one of those ironic cycles in which he hurts, in large measure, because he's not been moving: the more he doesn't move the more it hurts to move so the more he doesn't move. The only cure: moving through the pain, a relative constant in life.

Another irony, the doctors want him to get stronger, and yet dont yet want him eating solid foods (they have some good reasons for this). The answer: organic broths and juices! I am wishing I had my champion juicer here, but at least I have an organic, worker owned co-op up the street.

Although our insurance company reluctantly agreed to pay for the surgery, they have made clear that they will not pay for his follow up care here, once he has been discharged. Transplant patients require years of careful and diligent care, and even then it is a dicey road. I will not accept anything less than the best available care for my son, and so, with Leo daily making great strides, I am amassing a "hope chest" (as apposed to a 'war chest') to cover his future medical expenses, expected to be hundreds of thousands of dollars by the time all is said and done.

Meanwhile, home is feeling very far away indeed. I had occasion to call my bank today, and in verifying my identity they asked for my home address: for a moment I couldn't even remember it, and then, as I recited it, I got both the house number and zip code wrong. Granted, I am operating on sevier sleep deprivation, but still . . .
There is a condition called as ICU Psychosis, which is know to efflict patients, I think maybe I have it. I keep clicking my ruby slippers, but so far nothing

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