Sometimes the best news is the last thing you’d expect.
Take today. Tracey has been waiting to be taken into theatre so they can check out her innards and, excitingly, do a skin graft from her thigh to the hole in her belly to take it from the size of a butter plate to that of a small coffee ring.
Like I say, exciting.
Every little tweak and adjustment the surgeons make in their twice weekly journey into and around my wife’s stomach is aimed at trying to deliver our Tracey back to us with an obstruction free path which runs from her mouth to splashdown.
“I’m sorry,” the lovely nurse in ICU said to us at 9pm tonight because Tracey was still waiting to see if she was going to theatre today. “I know it’s frustrating.”
That’s not exactly the word I was thinking of.
“It’s fantastic!” I assured her. “We really think it’s great.”
Only two weeks ago Tracey was consistently holding pole position for theatre and now here she is being bumped as more urgent cases show up? That’s a win, people. We’ll take it to the hope bank.
But of course this has meant Tracey needs to continue with her nil by mouth regime. As Tracey pointed out, that’s five straight weeks now and no quick end in sight.
Although this afternoon there was a hint of things improving in that area.
“Was that..?” I asked, sitting up sharply.
Tracey nodded. “Me,” she confirmed in her raspy voice.
“That’s a good sign, yes?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Have you done it before?” I wanted to know.
“All my life,” she grinned and croaked.
“I mean since you’ve been in here.”
That was what I thought.
“Excuse me!” I called out to the nurse who was helping in the cubicle next door. “Excuse me! I think you need to write this in your computer.”
And when the nurse arrived with an inquisitive expression in tow I pointed to my wife with no less pride than I presented my first born to my parents some 23 plus years ago.
“Tracey farted!” I told her excitedly. “We thought you should know.”
Obviously something in that vastly reduced belly of hers is behaving like her normal old self. Speaking with some authority on these matters, I give it a day and I reckon the ICU nurses will be insisting she goes off to a ward.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”