The Night Falls
Cindy at the van Gogh museum in Amsterdam.
Some increase in pain brought the nurses with some meds. They turned her on her side, a relief from being on her back all day. She wakes easily and then slips back to sleep quickly. Spoke to both of the boys and was glad to hear about all those that have been praying for her.
The medicine to combat nausea makes her mouth dry as a spoon of cinamon. She has had ice chips and sips of water, but her lips keep sticking to her teeth. Chapstick is on the way. Respiratory therapy came and she did a little lung workout,
In a few minutes, they will bring her night meds and hopefully a few solid hours of sleep. Her temperature is normal, her vitals all steady. Everyone says, “Your doing good.”
She has not been on her feet yet and knows that is literally the next step in this journey. It is creating a bit of anxiety.
Most of the lights are off in the room, the curtain is pulled across the opening in the hall, the institutional florescence seeps through the fabric. Shadowy shapes drift across the undulating cloth. The air is filled with the beeps and pings of medical equipment and the soft hum of oxygen. Occasionally, words waft into the room creating a jumbled nonsense conversation.
They turned her, fluffed her pillows and settled her into the bed.
They offered me a pillow and blanket and a place to curl up.
“And so to bed…” – Samuel Pepys
