Day 6-7 - The Air Moves

So, day 6 begins we me fully awake at 7am and having listened to a ton of television over the night about P90X fitness training system with Tony Horton (whoever the fuck that is) and the Hair Cuttery ad that would haunt my memory thereafter for months on end.

I remember being awake for a while until my mother and her dude came into the room to see how things were going. And while I was totally pumped that I was awake allnight, she didn't seem to warm to that too well.

I also met my daytime nurse who had the same name as my sister, different spelling (as always). She seemed very energetic and nice, and things went well from here.

Late in the morning the doctor came by who I had originally met at this hospital and he noted how well I looked, and then got to a bit of discussion with my mother. Okay, my mother got into a discussion with him.

All I kept hearing from my not-so-cheapo seat was Heparin this, Heparin that. Apparently there was some controversy as to whether this particular drug that was administered to my small frame was an underlying cause of the problems that led to surgery number 2.

Eventually I was briefed of sorts on the problem, and filed that nugget away for a later time when I could ask the person I really wanted to ask about it: The Surgeon.

Then about early afternoon, I was informed that I'd be getting to move out of the ICU and back to the floor I originated from. Obviously, I took this as a good sign.

Before being moved, however, I was given an air ride. I giggled as I was hoisted completely in the air by this harness thing, and they eventually plunked me down in a big easy chair. It was firm but comfy, and it felt good to move even though I did little work. Eventually, they got the chair turned around so I could see outside the ICU window, and while it was a cold, rainy, day...it looked pretty damn good from the seat I was in.

I was in the chair for maybe a half an hour before the call came that my ass needed to get back into bed, because the movers were here. That was a stinker of a moment.

Before moving to this new floor, my mother felt the need to leave. So, off she went with the dude.

One flip of the switch and back I was, up suspended completely in the air, only to be landed back in the bed. Soon I was off to my new floor and new room.

My old room on the floor was occupied at the time by some two-bit harlet from Vegas. Errr...okay, I don't remember who was in my old room on the floor. I had my own room and it was good-sized.

After settling in and meeting some of the folk who would take care of me, I drank some juice and started watching the sports shows I usually watched.

After that move and all the action of the day, I was whipped. I made it through the pre-game crap (which, I normally don't watch - that's dinner time), I only made it through a few innings before my eyes finally listened to my body and I went to sleep.

Day 7 was a very quiet and quick day. I don't remember much of this day other than possibly talking to my sister on the telly, which it was great to finally hear from her. I was saddened that she didn't make it for the immaculate non-conception, but she has a job and a shit of a boss...so, what can you do, eh?

This was a Thursday, and I was nearly 1 week out from my first surgery. The following 7 days would, quite possibly, turn out to be some of the worst days of my life.

Day 8 will begin around 7:30am and an announcement from my mother that I immediately deemed incredulous.