We Are

We are safe.  We are warm.  We are here.  We are hugging Camille today in St. Paul, and we have my parents to hug on Jack and Liv (and Vinny) back in Omaha. 

We have so much to be grateful for, and that is not lost on us.  Families in our periphery in our little corner of the community in Omaha have absorbed an unimaginable amount of grief in the past several weeks.  Friends and family alike are fighting huge battles…some winning in this world, some not so much.  If life has taught us anything, it is to embrace what is important and try harder to let go of what is not.  I am such a remedial student much of the time.  Tonight, though, I am grateful to be at bedside with my girl who lasted precisely two minutes after tuning in to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows…Part 1 of course…as I was reminded it would be completely silly to watch Part 2 without recently having watched Part 1.  As I mentioned, I am a remedial student much of the time. 

CPM machine: Dad said it looks just like
 "back in the day."

Post-op Day 1 brought a smattering of this and that, really having passed in a flash.  Camille had a great last night, with pain well-controlled by an epidural expertly placed by a smashingly savvy anesthesiologist, who took on the challenge of inserting it in the setting of post-rhizotomy scarring with such expert grace.  Attempting to wean down the amount of meds going into it proved a bit futile.  After tapping out with Bill in good confidence this morning in the “changing of the guards” so I could get a little sleep, I came back to realize that I missed quite the rollercoaster of pain.  The benefits of having a rock-star dad is that he covers the slack and makes it all better to the point that when mom comes back, it seems to her as though none of it ever happened. 

With pain put back in its place, Camille’s room was a-flurry with visits from Rec Therapy, the vendor for the Continuous Passive Motion (CPM) machine, and Physical Therapy to start up the CPM and lay out the plans for the next few days.  Because, of course, Camille loves a good plan.  We managed to have just the most wonderful conversations with the pediatric intensivist who spent time at UNMC and in Western Nebraska in his days of youth—a truly amazing soul who has spent his life working his passion and can’t quite step away.  Smattered in between recovery tasks were plenty of card games with the card shark herself, the last one played in a valium-laden stupor which left Bill and I laughing ourselves to tears and Camille less amused.  To say that she nearly beat us in rummy with said valium on board, slurred speech and all, probably does not really reflect very highly upon us. Someday she will laugh at all of these stories.  She might still not laugh at the memory of me telling her not go anywhere each time I left the room today as she lay immobilized.  Too soon?

Short $.04 of Avocado

And for our daily dose of REALLY good humor, I am indebted to Bill.  I truly wish I had it in me to

engage in and brighten up the random moments as much as he does.  At right is a picture of my "#1 with avocado, no mayo" Jimmy John's sandwich, which he dutifully brought in for my supper, labeled not with the customary #1 +AVO -M, but instead with "+.75 AVO."  What the heck?  Welllllll....when Bill ordered my sandwich, the unsuspecting employee reminded Bill that adding avocado reflexively adds $.79 to the cost of the sandwich, to which Bill NATURALLY replied, "Oh, no!  My wife only allowed me an extra $.75."  So, the Jimmy John's guy proceeded to call the bluff and add just $.75 worth of avocado instead of $.79 worth.  Brilliantly played. 

I am so very, very grateful for these memories that we will have, atypical though they may be.  Hug your people.  Love them fiercely.