The Day After the Day After

Last night was a little better, but not much. I had the T.V. on all night. At least the room wasn't dark. I was still having nightmares but not as bad as the night before.

At 4:30 A.M. the doctors come in. What day is it? Where are you? Who is the president? (That's a new one.)

I get to have a nice breakfast. There's just one problem. My jaw on the left side killing me! I can hardly open it let alone chew anything. The drill went in on that side about an inch above my jaw.

The aide comes in and I get to get up and try to clean up a bit and get a new gown. I feel a little better but I still need a shower. Then I get to sit up in a chair for awhile. The therapists start coming in. First the physical therapist. She puts a belt on me and we go for a little walk. Then the speech therapist. He gives me a test to see where I'm at. He shows me pictures and I have to tell him what they are. I felt like I was on Jeopardy. If I came up with an answer that was close but not quite right he was quiet. The guy was anal anyway. One of them I said was a boat and the right answer was canoe. That was splitting hairs. The occupational therapist came in. We talked a little bit and I just didn't see that I would need any her services. My sister and the speech therapist agree that I could benefit from some ongoing speech therapy.

The doctors pronounce me fit to be released from intensive care to a regular bed as soon as a bed becomes available. Tomorrow I will have surgery to implant a port-a-cath in my upper chest. This is a device to receive the chemotherapy without having to poke me in the arm every time.

So now we wait for a regular room.

Wait...Wait...Wait