Darkness

I wrote the following blog one week ago on Thursday, September 27, one week after her lung surgery. I never finished it, but the very next day, she slowly started feeling better and we were hopeful she was headed in the right direction. She started being able to maneuver herself around in the bed. Next she could get out of bed to the bedside commode, and finally, she made it to the shower and for two short walks down the hallway with her walker. Before the progress, this is what I wrote:
The last two days have been so difficult. It is a feeling that is hard to describe, but we have been here once before when the pseudomonas was winning the battle with her body and she was so weak and fragile and sick. This time we can't really get a hold on the cause of her sickness. She was up six liters in fluid and looked almost unrecognizable, like she might pop if I pushed too hard on any part of her body. As of Monday night, she weighed fourteen pounds more than when she went in for her surgery last Thursday and she hasnt been able to eat at all (except for Monday when she had a few good hours...a scoop of vanilla ice cream and twix for breakfast and a little bit of a Costa Vida sweet pork salad at lunch.) At that point she was feeling a little bit better; her chest tube was out and she was cracking jokes as well as showing some fiestiness and irritability, which isn't really in Timmie's nature unless overly provoked on the basketball court. It was good to see these signs of energy, and she was actually quite funny. For example, I asked her if she wanted Costa Vida or Cafe Rio; she got agitated, rubbed her head, and blurted out, "I don't know. It confuses me. Some people say one is better." Then, with a look of disgust, "It's like politicians."  We all got a chuckle out of that. Timmie was in the hospital for both the Republican and Democratic National Conventions and watched several speeches trying to formulate her own opinions. You can see how that worked out for her.  The last few days have been extremely difficult. She has a collapsed left lung that she is trying to inflate with all sorts of respiratory therapy, but this is nearly impossible because she is nauseated to the point that when she opens her eyes, she vomits. Plus, her feet, yes both of them, are red, hot, swollen, and painful. It is difficult to move around with nerve pain in your feet, pain in your lung and chest, and overwhelming nausea. At dark moments such as this, the world just seems so overbearing and heavy,  and no matter how hard she tries, no matter how hard I try, the darkness is inescapable. We sit quietly in her room with blinds drawn, hoping and praying for a ray of light.