...weird. Kind of like it must be to be on a small dose of LSD mixed with a lot of Percocet. Surreal in v-e-r-y slow motion.
I thought about taking photos of my notebook--purchased a couple of weeks ago so I could be like Amy--but I'm really too tired for that.
- a list of phone numbers I might need today, scribbled on one page before leaving home, and added to over the day: hospital phone and Beastie's room number, Librarian H at work, the pool--don't ask--Jen's cell, my in-laws' phone
- a page of notes on the London news conference held at 3:15 GMT:
Afternoon:1) which was held, moment-for-moment at the exact same time as Daley's local news conference
2) The London Underground is run by an American??!
3) http://www.travel.state.gov/ / 1-888-407-4747
4) Why do I recognize the names of a couple of these guys doing the briefing?
5) "'Islamic' and 'terrorist' are words that do not go together" (Brian Paddick, Metropolitan Police Commander)
- cortisone shot (epidural) tom. /disc damage, not sure how many, prob. 1 /we'll know after epid how bad disc is (?) / need some p.t. afterwards (Greg?)
- The head nurse is running for cover when she sees me walking to the nurse's station. Too bad; she's nice and has been wonderful to [Beast]
- [a really awful drawing of some guy]
- Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry / Don't cry
I pitched a fit at about 5 this afternoon after spending the day listening to the roommate's friends and relatives, and Gastro Man himself. The nurse finally got through to the first set of visitors (the lawyer left at 2 or so) at 4:15 and they left....after five hours. Less than ten minutes later, reinforcements showed up to talk to Gastro Man. The Beast got no sleep whatsoever today. he told me at about this time that the wife hadn't left the hospital room last night until after 10, because they watched a movie together, undoubtedly talking all the way through it.
Anyway, at 5:00 I found the nursing supervisor and he (Wonderful Wayne) authorized moving the Beast to a newly-cleared room down the hall. It's a private room, so I had to make sure that wasn't going to cause trouble with our insurance. He said the hospital would pick it up. By then, Beastie was so tense from trying not to scream at Gastro Man that his legs had started to cramp again, and the Dilantin wasn't working anymore.
Eventually, he relaxed enough that he could sit up and eat, after which I left so he could sleep. All night. With no interruptions except for hospital business.
I was home less than 10 minutes tonight when the call finally came through that Sparky and his group are fine: they know the bones of what happened in London, and they went to the Louvre today. They are due home Sunday evening. Again, we aren't dealing with the logistics of that until we have to, although I'm virtually certain Beast won't be at the airport!
I stopped at the store for food (we hadn't been for over a week, well before we left town for the weekend). I'm reduced tonight to eating a Betty Crocker Bowl Appetit, lemon-frosted cookies, and (ugh--) flat diet Mountain Dew laced with vodka. And probably about four Tums before actually getting to sleep. Not to mention at least one Tylenol PM. To mitigate the whole nervy/sugar/caffeine situation, I'm going off for a bath now.