It’s funny how something which would have been so frustrating and icky a few days ago is all of a sudden viewed as incredibly lucky by members of this family.
Take the text message I received from my brother this morning. He was checking out their new house before handover when he saw ‘a sign’.
Good news! the message read. Bird flew into the new house and shit in the laundry!
If you feel that doesn’t make sense you’ve not read my last post. A lot of people have quite wonderfully been lighting candles for Tracey while our family has been burning ours at both ends. Not sure I’d trust myself with a naked flame at the moment so fortunately Grandma put us onto avian droppings as an alternative.
And bugger me if it doesn’t seem to be working…
The same surgeon who earlier in the week had to deliver us the news that given what he was seeing in her stomach he didn’t think Tracey was going to make it called us in for another meeting today.
Only this time the conversation was much more palatable.
“Her bowel has less inflammation. Much less inflammation,” he told us.
And in a world where language is nuanced, I noticed regarding the leaks into her stomach which they’re draining he referenced they were managing them rather than something akin to reacting to them.
All in all he was impressing us a lot.
Not sure I managed to do the same.
“Do you accept hugs?” I asked him when he was done with delivering all this wonderful news. He didn’t look keen, so I moved on to another question. “So you’d say you’re cautiously optimistic?”
We all agreed on that term.
Bullshit. I’m planning her homecoming.
So finally, with hardly any small bowel left, with no spleen and a little less liver, Tracey has stopped getting worse and started getting a little better.
Actually, I think she’s going to be thrilled at how thin she is around the waist when she gets out. I sense some retail therapy amidst whatever medical meetings they sign us up for. Her new tiny waist will probably handle a corset no problem.
Still, all that’s down the track. I suspect we’ve still got a few spins around the dance floor doing the ICU Cha Cha before Tracey’s back in my bed where she belongs.
Speaking of which, the whole extended family is obviously super thrilled at this turn of luck for Tracey.
I say luck, but it’s all down to the effort of the staff at the Royal Brisbane. They are awesome. Not just because they’re saving my wife but because of the way they work together as a team on every patient who comes through their doors to ensure the best outcome possible.
I also say my family were thrilled with the news of Tracey’s improvement, although not as much as me.
“You must be so excited with this news,” my brother’s MIL said hugging me today.
“I am excited,” I admitted, eyes twinkling cheekily. “Because you know what this means? There’s a chance I’m going to have sex again!”
So it seems my brother was right about his lucky bird poo.
And things got even better!
When we left the hospital and arrived at the car today for the long drive home to Gympie there was a gift on the door.
And sure enough, at 8.04pm tonight I received a call from the hospital.
“Tracey has indicated she’d like to hear your voice,” the nurse told me.
“Sorry? What?” I think I mumbled, sure I’d misheard. I might have only said it in my head though.
“She’s awake. And she wants you to talk to her.”
“I can be there in two and a half hours!” I exclaimed.
“No, no,” the nurse said. “You don’t have to come down tonight. You need to sleep and look after yourself. She’s woken up frightened and disorientated and I asked her if she’d like me to get you on the phone and she nodded. I’ll put it down to her ear and you can say something. Ready?”
Are you kidding me? I’ve been ready for this moment for three weeks!
I can’t really find the words to describe how wonderful it was to say ‘I love you’ and ‘you are my world’ and ‘I can’t believe you’d wake up the moment I leave’ and actually know I’ve been heard.
After I got off the phone and did my little jig and settled down (it took a little while) I confess the thing which was going through my head was bird droppings: damn that’s some powerful shit.
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Thank you again to everyone involved in keeping our Tracey alive and in with a chance. If you would like to do something wonderful please consider donating to one of the heroes of this ordeal – Care Flight who got Tracey where she needed to be quickly and safely. I gave them $100 as a thank you. This is a service we need to ensure continues because it saves live, keeping mummies around for their kids and hapless husbands.