Adieu, Adieu, to I and C and U
byNo one wants to take credit for the medical miracle which is lying beside me in her hospital bed while I type this. A bed, I should point out, which is no longer in ICU.
No one wants to take credit for the medical miracle which is lying beside me in her hospital bed while I type this. A bed, I should point out, which is no longer in ICU.
Sometimes the best news is the last thing you’d expect.
Rallying to the call, my darling sister, Kerri, was on a plane from Cairns just as soon as she could manage to help babysit our five littlies to free me up so I could sit with Tracey. She’s ready to leave now.
I’m not convinced my Mother-In-Law will be talking to me tomorrow.
There’s still a few turns of the dance floor in Tracey’s ICU Cha Cha, but the main thing is she’s still on her feet.
I keep talking to Tracey as she lies sprawled out on her ICU bed and she, poor poppet, still has a tube in her mouth so she’s unable to communicate outside of nodding, shaking her head, eye rolling and wiggling her cute little eyebrows.
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. We love this man.
I’m too scared to be optimistic. That hasn’t really worked for me so far.
There will be some news on Tracey tomorrow after tonight’s procedure. Meanwhile, I’d hate for anyone to think when shit is going down I can’t still stuff up in a totally embarrassing manner….