I'm Sick, You're Sick, Dad's Sick

You can probably tell from my last few posts that I am major ZZZZ-Deprived. [Bit'O'Honey, that means "sleep deprived" ... I know ... I know ... it's hard keeping up.] After making more than 70 posts in the past week ... all related to the ViolentSilence ... I have decided that:

I am a sick man!

But that's okay, so are you!

I knew that I was going crazy when I stepped in the elevator the other day by myself ... that rarely happens at the TraumaCondo ... as I was riding up, the elavator stopped at the Fifth Floor. Get this, 6 Doctors piled into the elevator with me and pressed "11" ... I was going to "10" ... In those few seconds of silence, it took every ounce in my body not to say, "Doctor ... Doctor ..." [If you get it, you love Leslie Nielson. If you don't get it, you are either too old or too young.] Either way, if you are still reading the site, you are just as sick as I am.

And Dad is sick too!

The best way to describe Dad's condition at this point is "remains critical, making good and slow progress." Self, how can that be? Dad remains on significant pain and sedation medication, NoHurtJuice and CalmBrainJuice. The goal is to reach that fine line where the TraumaTeam can lower the meds to a point where Dad will respond neurologically and maintain a comfortable level without significant pain.

Can Dad raise his hand? Yes.
Can Dad move his arm? Yes.
Can Dad raise his thumb on command? Sometimes.
Can Dad open his eyes? Sometimes.
When he opens his eyes, can he see me? Don't know.
Does he know we are there? Yes.
Can he hear us? I strongly believe so.

What remains clear is that Dad has not been fully awake, fully revived to a point where he can open his eyes and say, "Hello wife dearest." or "Hello my son." or "Where is my other amazing child?"

You see, Dad's sick. And that's okay because so am I, and so are you.