Briefly

So. Bloody. Tired.

Well, I normally leave here at 7am and return about 8pm. That's 9 hours on the road, 3 hours at the hospital, and 1 hour in petrol stations, in parking garages, in traffic, in drive-throughs ('cause my arse needs to be a bit wider *rolls eyes*).

We left at 7 and returned ... just now, actually, at 9:30. My Mum just tore out the door to her 1 1/2 hour drive home and she has to get up at 5am to go to work.

*whew*

We got the Explorer, we didn't retreive any important papers, we did get Dad some requested stuff from the house (munchies and magazines and medicine).

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(Disclaimer: this post my be a bit muddled. I'm Zombie-girl nowadays but I want to update everyone)

Dad is struggling through a whole new set of difficulties. He's confused, his brain is scrambled, and he feels a bit out-of-control.

It's very easy for folks to brush this phase off. A lot of people are saying brightly: "Well, he's on the mend now!" and "He's over the hard part!" and "This is nothing! He'll get over this quickly!"
No offense to the optimists, but, well ... that's easy for you to say. Dad is not only having to continue to recover physically, but he's now wrestling with a memory riddled with gaps - and most disturbing for him: stuff that's just not true.

This is normal, but he's having a hard time dealing with it. This part is NOT easy. He's like that guy in the Stephen King novel, the writer who thought he was being stalked by the guy when it turned out to be HIMSELF. (Not that it's that sinister, but you get my meaning)

He remembers the accident, he remembers about Kimberly. But he also thinks that he was in a coma ("for seventeen days") and swears that someone told him that he broke both arms and both legs. He thinks that he's been in different hospitals and that he's had multiple surgeries (on all limbs). He knows who I am and knew Evil Genius Husband, but says that he thought we were both working at the hospital "last week".

I reassured him that, yes, it sucked and, yes, this was right but that was just a false memory and that all of it was due to the drugs. I told him that tomorrow would be clearer and the next day clearer still, but he still asked all the questions again.

I'm so glad that he's getting better and I'm so glad that he's getting stuff worked out in his head but I'm sorry that he feels helpless and confused. It's maddening to me. I want a magic wand to wave to give him clarity. It's certainly clear that he feels very vulnerable right now. He's also a bit cross with the situation (understandably).

Well, I answered all of his questions frankly, dragged Dr Looks-Like-He's-Sixteen over to address Dad's concerns (he wants the drugs to relieve the pain but not make him confused. That's not gonna happen. They're narcotics.), and had to run.

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Oh, I wanted to give props to the nurse in the acute care. I liked all of the nurses in the ICU (save that last one who was snotty to me and spent the entire time I was there sitting on her broad backside in the nurses station) but this chick is exceptional. Not only did she allow me in despite it not being visiting hours, but she was sweet, efficient, and attentive. You go grll!

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And this grll is going to bed. Ring me tomorrow, anyone who needs a more specific update.

*Zzzzzzzzzz*