Our cat B, short for Beatitude, was quite the rascal at around 3:30 this morning. She misses James terribly and her vengeance for his persistent absence was to make the most annoying sounds possible so that I would get out of bed and pay attention to her. I grabbed my flashlight off the bedside table so as not to awaken Imogen (she sleeps through everything) and there was B, playing with a Halloween bag in the shape of a pumpkin head. I have no idea where she found it! I will have to think of a new ritual for her to replace James's routines (he did demonstrate to me how to grab her, throw her over one's shoulder, and scratch her behind her ears--I'll get cracking on that technique).
James was a little less responsive this morning but the respiratory team (the R team) seem ready to take out his breathing tube. They are debating James's status with the neurological team (the Neuro team). Every team has their specialized focus and since James is breathing on his own, the tube seems redundant to the R team but the Neuro team is cautious because they want to be sure that James will be capable of coughing correctly. They should have little mascots similar to sports teams. The R team should perhaps sport a cute, smiley face balloon and the Neuro team could have a brain with little legs and arms. It would make their Bellevue doctor sweaters (yes, the teams wear matching Patagonia type zipper sweaters) that much more spirited and cheerful! I have a habit of looking at everyone's name tags and the embroidered name of the hospital on each doctor's sweater. I do not remember their names but it's become such a habit.
A bone specialist will review the CT scan to confirm if James's temporal bone has the defect or not. They have also just performed a test by injecting dye inside his brain to see where it flows. If there is a defect, it will be evident with the dye trail. Every new facet that the doctors find regarding James's condition is constructive. I am hopeful that the more the doctors are able to uncover regarding the healing process and how it is progressing, the clearer an understanding will be of James's current condition. It has been difficult for me to judge James's awareness level when the outward manifestation of his recovery seems to remain consistently the same. There is so much going on inside his skull and those are the factors that they discuss before bringing their daily conclusion to me.
Whenever a test must be given, the technician performing the test or procedure will ask the nurse, "Tell me about your patient." I sort of like that moment, in a weird way, because the nurses do know what is happening with him and even though the tech/specialist has reviewed the chart, they still want to hear the synopsis from the nurses. I find myself briefing the various teams now too.
James was never one for taking in a lot of information at one time. It was a defect of his brain! There was the classic moment of the airline representative explaining which gate we were to fly out of and how to get there through a small provincial airport in Spain--the plane was about to take-off--James was standing, nodding, smiling and seemingly listening. The moment we stepped away from the counter, I said, "Where are we to go again?" and he looked at me as if I were crazy, "I wasn't listening!" James sort of counted on me as his default brain. I would take in all the details of our lives, the things that he did not need to concentrate on, and he felt secure that it would work out in the end. It was a bargain we made as a couple. It made me happy to let him live this free sort of existence.
One Spring, James had two shows in Europe, one in Munich and another in Zurich. Our friends Alan and Marsha were living in Paris on an artist grant so it seemed too perfect to hit all three cities. It was an incredible season because the timing was so perfect that we encountered blooming euphoria in each city, as if Spring was running only a few steps ahead of us, throwing out handfuls of flowers at the train. As usual, I had made all the plans--hotel reservations, tickets, money exchanges and connections--the logistics of the trip. I even had the habit of holding our passports and money.
On the train from Zurich to Paris, it was gorgeous out and the train would make short stops at stations. People would step off the train for a smoke or to stretch their legs--we watched them from our train window. James decided he too would step off the train at the next stop, buy some candy from one of the kiosks on the platform (his sweet tooth needed a fix). The train stopped, I gave him some pocket change, and he ambled out down the hallway to find an open door to step out. Suddenly, the train blew it's whistle and the doors quickly shut! It was not a long stop as we had previously witnessed but a pause. The train lurched forward and I was covered in a cold sweat. He did not have his passport--he had no money! He did not even know the name of the hotel we were staying at in Paris, not even the neighborhood. I do not think he even knew the exact name of the residency where Alan and Marsha were living! Paris has several train stations--he did not even know our final destination! I was horrified! What would he do?
I sat in a panic for about ten minutes or so when who should show up in our train compartment but James with a cup of coffee in his hand! I was relieved and then livid! Where have you been, why didn't you come back right away? He told me that he had stood on the platform for about one second and had a strange feeling come over him that he should get back on the train immediately. He just made it back on before the doors closed shut. He found a food car on the train and had waited while they made him a coffee. He was grinning. I could not be mad at him--I was so happy he was not lost! We vowed that for future trips, he would always have a copy of at least the itinerary and hold his own passport!
The trip he is on now, he has no map, foreign currency, or passport. I cannot be his default brain. He's voyaging in there alone. I know he can do it! He has an insane compass inside him. When we travelled in foreign cities, he was able to navigate from the horrible tourists maps that only show large unmarked boulevards in the city centers--he had this intrinsic sense to find his way. I may have been able to coordinate our mundane, every day realities but James has always been the voyager.
Perhaps we should all take a walk this weekend without GPS or any real navigational system to see where it takes us.
James was a little less responsive this morning but the respiratory team (the R team) seem ready to take out his breathing tube. They are debating James's status with the neurological team (the Neuro team). Every team has their specialized focus and since James is breathing on his own, the tube seems redundant to the R team but the Neuro team is cautious because they want to be sure that James will be capable of coughing correctly. They should have little mascots similar to sports teams. The R team should perhaps sport a cute, smiley face balloon and the Neuro team could have a brain with little legs and arms. It would make their Bellevue doctor sweaters (yes, the teams wear matching Patagonia type zipper sweaters) that much more spirited and cheerful! I have a habit of looking at everyone's name tags and the embroidered name of the hospital on each doctor's sweater. I do not remember their names but it's become such a habit.
A bone specialist will review the CT scan to confirm if James's temporal bone has the defect or not. They have also just performed a test by injecting dye inside his brain to see where it flows. If there is a defect, it will be evident with the dye trail. Every new facet that the doctors find regarding James's condition is constructive. I am hopeful that the more the doctors are able to uncover regarding the healing process and how it is progressing, the clearer an understanding will be of James's current condition. It has been difficult for me to judge James's awareness level when the outward manifestation of his recovery seems to remain consistently the same. There is so much going on inside his skull and those are the factors that they discuss before bringing their daily conclusion to me.
Whenever a test must be given, the technician performing the test or procedure will ask the nurse, "Tell me about your patient." I sort of like that moment, in a weird way, because the nurses do know what is happening with him and even though the tech/specialist has reviewed the chart, they still want to hear the synopsis from the nurses. I find myself briefing the various teams now too.
James was never one for taking in a lot of information at one time. It was a defect of his brain! There was the classic moment of the airline representative explaining which gate we were to fly out of and how to get there through a small provincial airport in Spain--the plane was about to take-off--James was standing, nodding, smiling and seemingly listening. The moment we stepped away from the counter, I said, "Where are we to go again?" and he looked at me as if I were crazy, "I wasn't listening!" James sort of counted on me as his default brain. I would take in all the details of our lives, the things that he did not need to concentrate on, and he felt secure that it would work out in the end. It was a bargain we made as a couple. It made me happy to let him live this free sort of existence.
One Spring, James had two shows in Europe, one in Munich and another in Zurich. Our friends Alan and Marsha were living in Paris on an artist grant so it seemed too perfect to hit all three cities. It was an incredible season because the timing was so perfect that we encountered blooming euphoria in each city, as if Spring was running only a few steps ahead of us, throwing out handfuls of flowers at the train. As usual, I had made all the plans--hotel reservations, tickets, money exchanges and connections--the logistics of the trip. I even had the habit of holding our passports and money.
On the train from Zurich to Paris, it was gorgeous out and the train would make short stops at stations. People would step off the train for a smoke or to stretch their legs--we watched them from our train window. James decided he too would step off the train at the next stop, buy some candy from one of the kiosks on the platform (his sweet tooth needed a fix). The train stopped, I gave him some pocket change, and he ambled out down the hallway to find an open door to step out. Suddenly, the train blew it's whistle and the doors quickly shut! It was not a long stop as we had previously witnessed but a pause. The train lurched forward and I was covered in a cold sweat. He did not have his passport--he had no money! He did not even know the name of the hotel we were staying at in Paris, not even the neighborhood. I do not think he even knew the exact name of the residency where Alan and Marsha were living! Paris has several train stations--he did not even know our final destination! I was horrified! What would he do?
I sat in a panic for about ten minutes or so when who should show up in our train compartment but James with a cup of coffee in his hand! I was relieved and then livid! Where have you been, why didn't you come back right away? He told me that he had stood on the platform for about one second and had a strange feeling come over him that he should get back on the train immediately. He just made it back on before the doors closed shut. He found a food car on the train and had waited while they made him a coffee. He was grinning. I could not be mad at him--I was so happy he was not lost! We vowed that for future trips, he would always have a copy of at least the itinerary and hold his own passport!
The trip he is on now, he has no map, foreign currency, or passport. I cannot be his default brain. He's voyaging in there alone. I know he can do it! He has an insane compass inside him. When we travelled in foreign cities, he was able to navigate from the horrible tourists maps that only show large unmarked boulevards in the city centers--he had this intrinsic sense to find his way. I may have been able to coordinate our mundane, every day realities but James has always been the voyager.
Perhaps we should all take a walk this weekend without GPS or any real navigational system to see where it takes us.
Amazing story and post today.
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