A little after 9:00 o'clock this morning we completed three weeks since that fateful morning: June 23rd (see "The Day it Happened"). That was a Tuesday, but it didn't seem like a weekday. It didn't seem like a weekend day either, nor a holiday. It was some other kind of time and space...strange, weird, surreal. Each of you have experienced events that put you in a place like that; events you will always remember...where you were, what you were doing, all that kind of thing.
But just as this past three weeks has brought significant signs of recovery to Bettie, so it is with me and others in the family. One naturally goes through various stages in dealing with this kind of thing: i.e. the guilt stage:
"If only I had ____ (or hadn't ____ ) maybe this wouldn't have happened", the "This can't be happening to me" stage, and on and on.
I'm sure there are more stages ahead. But all in all, things are getting better. I only have to consider how very much worse this could have been, to be thankful for what we have. Among the things I'm thankful for is the support of family and friends...many of you reading this.
Alright, enough of the maudlin syrup.
I left Bettie an hour ago, sound asleep. She had lunch and dinner through an IV drip, just like the early days two weeks ago. She is in preparation for a procedure tomorrow that is supposed to be installing a drain in the area of her infected gall bladder. Should there be any complications with that procedure, they will just remove it. (The bladder -- not the drain, silly!)
Before she drifted off, she was in her usual good spirits. Speaking of which, she is absolutely a big favorite with the staff at Auburn Acute Rehab Center. She is cooperative, works hard on therapy, and always tries to be agreeable. The professionals there seem to go out of their way to provide excellent care for her.
Yes, things are a lot brighter than that awful day, three weeks ago.
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