Riding tough

Dad, you're continuing to improve. They took your O2 assistance down to 50%. I think you're getting some breathing therapies. They may move it back up, but they're asking more of your lungs and I believe your lungs are trying to deliver.

As your vitality returns, and as the sedative begins to have less effect, you're beginning to experience some of the discomfort inherent in having tubes and needles in you. This sucks. For you. For us. There's nothing I'd love more than to yank all that crap out of you, undo the brakes on the bed and wheel you out of there like some sort of jailbreak. But, we'd soon see the error of our ways, wouldn't we? Your lungs would tell you quickly what a hairbrained scheme that was.

It's difficult. Dixie and I have both had experiences in which you've communicated your discomfort. You'll move your legs quite a bit, lifting them off the bed and it makes me nervous because you've got some IV action going in your feet. Fortunately, Dixie was successful in getting some resolution yesterday to one source of your discomfort. (She will have to tell you this story. It's a good one. But probably one reserved for private laughs.) But this morning, when Mom and I were there, you were definitely bothered by something again. And I have no idea if you're reacting to the general set of circumstances or something specific that we can't see. I looked to see if the same thing was wrong as when Dixie had been there, but it was not. I brought your nurse in, too, to take a look. I hope you know we're not content to see you struggle and that we (and your nurses) are trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

But this is temporary. This, too, shall pass. You're a champion survivor. And although it's rough to see you struggle like this, we've been given the blessing of witnessing your return to the living. I will just keep that in mind. You don't have to like the tubes. You don't have to lie there, all zonked out. And when you're aware, you don't have to be stoic about it, like there's a camera rolling somewhere. Like you're the hero who lies still through the pain, blinking in morse code to tell us where the bomb's been planted.

You're the hero, Daddy, but you're a buckaroo. So you just dig in your spurs and ride the bronc and we'll do our best to make sure everything that can be done for your comfort is being done.

I love you.