Day 5 of sitting in the hospital as my husband, Charles recovers from pneumonia. Boring, but necessary stuff and so thankful he’s improving every day.
At the moment we’re both sitting on our laptops. He’s hanging with his schmancy gamer boy headphones and I have my fantastic, noise cancelling ear buds. Now every time a nurse, tech, housekeeping or the flurry of other people who constantly intrude into our little room open the door I jump.
I rarely listen to music while on the laptop. I like to have complete concentration or maybe I’m old enough that it simply takes everything I have to concentrate on what I’m doing. Either way, today is a nice reprieve with good music flowing, fantastic wi-fi signal and we just asked the Tech if we could possibly move to a larger room so we can spread out and she’s making it happen.
The entire team of caretakers here at St. David’s North Austin has been phenomenal. I couldn’t have asked for a more attentive and genuinely caring staff. They listen well and respond promptly.
Charles’ doctor gave us a litany of details this afternoon describing how they are treating his pneumonia and why it took Charles’ feeling close to death before they were able to run the right tests to see it. In fact, Charles had a chest x-ray performed on Tue., July 22, but wasn’t admitted until Sat., July 26. Oddly reassuring that other health professionals really weren’t falling down on the job, but still not something we’d wish on anyone.
And I can feel it. I can honestly physically feel the prayers family and friends are submitting on our behalf. Last night I had a sweet voice-mail from a dear friend, just as I hit yesterday’s breaking point. Boys may not understand this, but I suspect many women will. I was walking away from the hospital completely frustrated with the slowness of progress, frustrated that beyond my husband’s health there’s a slew of other things that I must take care of now completely solo and I simply can’t be in that many places at once. I honestly don’t know how single parents do it. And then I listened to my friends voice-mail. She left it as I began bawling my eyes out and hyperventilating and thinking I needed to get it together because I couldn’t drive myself home like that.
Thanks to those that remember to lift us up at whatever time you think of us. We will make it through this and life will go on . . . it’s just not super fun in while we’re in the middle of it.