Too soon to Freak Out About Fay, not when there are so many other things on my plate. I have penciled in Sunday afternoon for caring about a hurricane. If it is still coming this way, I will bring in the patio furniture and make ice. The worst part of this is that it may totally screw up Girlchild's moving day.
This has been a long week. It will be a long weekend. My mother is still in the hospital, in the Progressive Care Unit - less than intensive, higher than normal - in the new wing of the hospital. Holy shit, it's gorgeous - you would not believe it's a hospital at all, it's so sleek and serene and quiet, and every room has a recliner and a leather couch and a 42" flat screen TV. I have never, ever seen a hospital like this, and I will have to find out who designed it, because, yeah, stunning. From the tile in the bathrooms to the woodlike product floors, it's luxury. I'm guessing hardly anyone goes home voluntarily. You'd have to use a crowbar to get me out of that bed. I wanted to move in, and have someone bring me meals on a tray and some nice relaxing drugs while I kick back to watch a movie.
Enough about the room. My mother looks like shit, and is very weak, is on IV antibiotics and oxygen, and still has fluid in her lungs. She's getting a hefty dose of Lasix for that. She's lucid, and is now aware of her own anxiety and asked for something to relax her, so she could get some sleep. Which of course made me think Holy Shit she's very, very sick - this woman has fought any attempt to do anything for her anxiety and such for 40+ years. If she's now anxious enough to be aware of it herself and want relief, instead of contentedly taking it out on others, she's in bad, bad shape.
Another worrisome sign - she asked for PT. Yeah, Nasty Little Mrs. Non-Compliant now wants to get out of the bed and be allowed to walk. I think she's scared she won't be getting out of bed much again.
I am prepared for the visits, there is a comfy chair, a big TV, and I have Hospital Knitting - the drop stitch scarf in silk is coming along nicely. Of course, I'm second guessing myself, thinking maybe I should have taken it down a needle size (the yarn is heavy worsted-like, and I'm using a 9, and I'm a loose knitter, an 8 probably would have done it). But I love it. And I have enough of this lovely yarn to make fingerless mitts and maybe even another scarf.
But God, I'm exhausted. I am exhausted and also depressed that I am so damn good at this hospital thing. I want to put on something pretty and have an attractive man take me to dinner someplace romantic. I don't want to be good at hospital knitting.