Counting the days

Wednesday, Aug. 24

I often say to people, "Can you imagine lying in bed day after day for several months, not hardly able to move and not being able to see very well?"

That's been Teresa's life for the last 8-10 months at the Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital in Denver.

Add to that not having friends or family for much of the time to at least visit with. I'm in Denver on my days off from work, but that is the best that I can do at this time.

The other night Teresa called me at work. She was crying. She's done a great job with her physical therapy and for the most the part, the news has been positive for the last couple of weeks.

I was at first a little puzzled. I ask, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just so lonely. I don't have anybody to talk to," she said.

All I can do is talk to her and remind her that it will be OK. I try to come up with things for her to do to keep her mind off of things; watch TV, watch a movie. Easy for me to say, especially when your eyes are so bad you can hardly see the television.

So we just talk some more.

As I said before, things are beginning to look up for her physically. Today, she got on the tilt table to build strength in her legs. She handled it pretty well. The doctors have hinted that if things go well, they could cut her loose in say, 2-4 months.

A little while ago, Teresa started counting on her fingers ... September, October, November, December ... and she said, "I'm going to be home for Christmas. No, I'm going to be home for Thanksgiving. Wait, I'm going to be home to hand out candy (for Halloween)."

I answered, "Darn right you are."

Under no circumstance was I going to say anything else.

I know my wife, but I also know how things have gone for us this last year. I know she has the determination to get better and I know she wants to just be home more than anything in the world.

In the back of my mind, though, I want to temper that enthusiasm ... not for Teresa, but for me. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if she has another setback, that determination will dwindle.

A while back when Teresa was really sick with a 104 degree temperature, the doctor told me to "hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."

Of course, the only thing I took from that was "prepare for the worst." Naturally, I didn't handle it well.

Later on, though, I began to think about what the doctor had said. From a medical standpoint, it made sense. Teresa had two more bad temperature days after that and I heard much of the same thing from the doctors.

She battled and battled through it and we think we have a handle on the high temperatures. But we never know for sure.

I told Teresa after her last episode that we're no longer going to dwell on what could happen, but live and enjoy each day to the fullest. But how do you enjoy each day when you're lying alone in a hospital bed 150 miles from your family? I still don't have an answer to that.

 All I can do is come down here on my days off and try to make her laugh. When she calls me at work crying, there will be nothing more important than just talking to her.

Teresa told the kidney doctor today that she was going to walk again by the time she goes home.

If that happens by Halloween, we're going to need a lot of candy. And Christmas is going to be the best ever.