I got night duty and it went fairly well. She dozed much of the night in a light sleep. Can't get much deeper than that with the humming of the pumps and things like that. Once her fever and pain were addressed and knocked back, she was feeling more comfortable. Is still snoozing right now.
The day is dawning with pink skies to the east. To heck with that sailor's adage about "red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky at morn, sailors take warn". I prefer to think "red sky at morn, a good day to be born" (and to fight cancer, but that doesn't rhyme). Maybe I can work on it a little: red sky in the east, time to beat the beast? Red sky at dawn, cancer begone! Hey, I like this! The Bard's got nuthin' on me!
Mt. Rainier stands sentinel over the scene with one of those funky lenticular clouds sitting near the summit. It is always a good day when we can see the Mountain (see prior post about being capitalized). It will be a good day.
Now, one quick story. For those interested in medical updates, you could have stopped at the first paragraph. If you want to read Steve's anecdotes, fueled by hospital coffee and as good a night's sleep as one can be expected on a hospital cot, then read on.
Had a bit of a break yesterday and hightailed it to Golden Gardens. There is something about being at the seashore that always brings me solace. I was looking for something to bring back and came up with the following:
An oyster shell. It was rough on one side smooth on the other. Oysters, when giving grit and dirt turn it into something of real beauty, a pearl. That's what Gabrielle will do with this cancer.
A mussel shell. OK, a bit of a stretch here. It sounds like muscle (I guess they're homonyms, that's the word I'm looking for). Muscle reminds me of strength. Gabrielle has lots of that. So her blue mussel shell tells me she is strong and will marshal that strength to fight this, with every muscle she has. And when she is ready she would like to have a pot of mussels in coconut curry sauce (not too spicy please).
Some pieces of beach glass. It is just like the ocean to take something that is broken with sharp rugged edges and polish it off and turn it into a thing of beauty (thanks, by the way, to Dean and the boys for your contribution to the beach glass and shell collection as well yesterday). That is what is going to happen to the cancer. I like beach glass.
Here's to the dawn of a good day. Oh, and Go Seahawks!