70 days and counting….

It was an emotional homecoming…our old friends welcomed us back to the floor with kind words and hugs.  Our dedicated Chaperone brought us down and solemnly entrusted us back to our GI brethren. There were Welcome Back’s and We’ve been waiting for you’s galore.  5 years of vacationing here gives you a history, a membership into a secret club. It was sweet to see all the genuinely happy faces welcoming Capt Snuggles back.  It was glorious to spend 10 minutes being chatty and gossipy with the Chaperones instead of staid and serious.

Capt Snuggles slept through it all.

Because after all, he is still sick and we are still in the hospital.

Today is 10 weeks since his transplant. 70 days spent in the hospital.  70, seventy, seven-oh, it’s such a big number. My father’s 70th birthday was yesterday, my husband is 70 inches tall, I was born in nineteen 70 – something, there’s 70 calories in 2 circus peanuts (maybe I should lay off the peanuts….)

 When you’re incarcerated in the hospital, days blend. Days turn into nights and nights back into days. Television is irrelevant. Could you watch “Dancing with the Stars”  while your child is intubated, sedated and battling a 104 temp? Yeah, me neither.   The Chaperones work 12 hour shifts, and now so do I.  I piddle with the laptop, playing silly Facebook games, working a tiny thread of a thought into a bona fide tapestry of ideas,  – only to realize it’s 2am.  Capt Snuggles is awake, too. He has his days and nights a bit mixed up. We both do. Sleep illudes me.

Our caffeine-crazed night owl Chaperone comes down to visit us. She’s been our designated Chaperone for each one of her shifts since we arrived. She will miss us and we will miss her.

We’ve served our time in the PICU. It’s time to start the countdown to going home.

Good-night Capt Snuggles.


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