It's not even that she hears them, it's that when it hurts to breathe, that's a lizard-brain panic. It's HARD to not panic when breathing is impeded, even IF you know all the rational stuff.
I'm a strong swimmer, I can hold my breath for a looooong time, I can control my breathing to keep swimming even when water goes down the wrong tube swimming in the pool ....and snorkels and masks and huge deep ocean totally ruin all of that. It took a LOT the times the snorkel fed me a mouthful to just relax and flip to my back (or spit it out and do a few normal strokes with face in the water. ) Reset is not easy, even when you know what is going on.
I've tried to move a hot pan with my hands after taking it out of the oven (with oven mitts).
Speaking of which, first unmedicated swim since I got sick. Um. Well, it felt like work. But did not translate to speed. Opposite.
I just discovered a gift-with-purchase clinique bag left for me (Um, maybe I should LOOK DOWN when I enter my house.)
I can use the remover, cleanser, bag and possibly eyeshadow. The rest I'll take to work. Brian got it when picking up his clinique stuff today (why didn't they give him a *guy* gwp bags?? He may have a beauty routine that puts mine to shame, but he's clearly not the makeup-wearing type. And pretty clear he'd have a boyfriend/husband, not a girl...)
Anyway, he's gone into full on big-brother mode lately, which is cute (and not annoying.) He's soooo much more concerned about aesthetics of garage doors (he is a buyer for a high end interior design firm) than I. I suspect the conversation I'm gonna have with the contractor is gonna go something like "Look, I'm the farm cousin who just doesn't want ugly and really only cares about durability and functionality. I can't differentiate between whites not next to each other. You don't need to discuss powder coat techniques, just how much abuse it can take before I have to paint the fucker. So let's set my bar there."
I totally need someone in my life to leave gwp bags with makeup remover. I wore mascara for the first time in decades and after washing my face, I didn't get it all off. DOH.
I just finished re-reading Fault in our Stars. Lori offered to keep Noah overnight and her brood was going to see the movie. Noah cries at Clifford the Big Red Dog. It was likely not a good choice for him. So, I picked him up and we watched college baseball and then we snuggled in bed. He ended up going to sleep in Grace's bed. He misses her.
Aw, poor lovey boy. May they get to annoy each other soonest.
It's sort of funny because when she is at the hospital, he's worried and scared but also he gets one of us completely. The kids never sleep in our beds, but he gets to until the other mom comes home so he is in heaven but guilty feeling.
Being a twin must be complex.
One more thought before I go to bed. And I'd blog this if I ever had a nondefunct blog. But.
When Grace first got her trache (on my 35th birthday!) I thought of it as a thing to get through. In my brain, I held the idea that if we could just get the trache out then she'd be better and some of our biggest issues and worries would evaporate.
I also, naively it seems, believed that they'd pull the trache and there would be a day or two of worry, but that it was just be....easy.
But no.
Surgery, now, is particularly harrowing because she has no permanently open airway. And she has to continually have surgery because, in her ENTs words, they are worried about sloppy margins and her trachea collapsing in on itself. Instead of fewer surgeries, we now have more in the short term. She has to go back to surgery on July 1 and then again on July 29th, or so.
Her ENT does not like the idea of us driving across country. She would prefer that we avoid Idaho because, in her words, there are no good doctors there because it's too rural. She said the closest pediatric ENT she trusts is in Denver, so Colorado is okay. Let's not even talk of South Dakota; she'd prefer we hurry through straight to Minnesota where there is at least proximity to Mayo. She is at least fine with us staying in Ohio (Cleveland Clinic meets her criteria). I know that it's parochialism, but it's also scary to think about in light of today's incident.
So yes. OF COURSE removing the trache is not the end that I hoped it was. In fact, it's merely the beginning of another process.
But look at this little silly face: [link] FWIW, that's a donut they rest her head in when they perform surgeries, not something for hemorrhoids.
