Chapter Seven: Late Nights in Uncomfortable Chair-Beds

Our longtime friends offer (along with about 20 other of our friends) to take care of the two smaller girls for the evening and overnight to permit Carol and I to focus solely on Phoebe. The offers are gracious and make sense. Because of their familiarity with our North Hills friends, they make arrangements to swing past the house to pick up toiletries and jammies for a sleepover. Again, thank God for supportive friends and family. Our attention turns to Phoebe's situation. She is back from post-operative recovery. My god she looks rough. She has got to be so sore and to hurt so badly. One of the superb Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) nurses adjusts Phoebe's blankets. Phoebe thanks her. She then asks Phoebe, "Honey, on a scale of one to ten, what would you estimate your pain to be." Mentally I calculated that I would raise both hands and flash them twice - if I were her, I'd hurt about twenty! Phoebe says, "Two and holds up, two fingers." I cannot believe this child. Not more than ten hours ago she was hit by a car mirror about five times harder than the hardest mixed-martial arts fighter would hit. She didn't lose consciousness, and she says her pain is a two of ten. Man, I want this girl on my team. She is a rock! Carol and I look at each other and chuckle. I welled up with tears of relief of the whole experience - I don't think Carol did because she's where Phoebe got her indomitable spirit genes. We settled in for what promised to be a restful and relaxing night of unadaltered sleep - NOT. Although we were all dog-tired, sleep wouldn't come. True, the chairs recline but they are a far cry from my comfy home mattress. Don't even mention the fact that I was trying to use my jacket as a blanket. I was either sweating or freezing. No rhyme or reason to it. It was about that time that it hit me. Steve, you are such an idiot. You are in a warm hospital room with your daughter who is still very much alive. She is promising to make a full recovery and you are whining about a little discomfort on a strategically placed bed to monitor your daughter? Shut up and help her out. I'll also admit that I got more sleep than Carol she awakened each time a nurse came in to check a catheter or an IV, pain drip. I had flash backs to the days of babies in cribs awaiting their late-night feedings. Each time Phoebe would thank them for their help. I wasn't the only one who was amazed at her graciousness in the face of adversity. Five a.m. rolled around pretty quickly. The PICU ward started to come to life. Phoebe also awakened from her fitful sleep and began to ask questions. What day is it? What happened? Why am I here? We went over the details. It was Saturday. What day of the month is it Phoebe? We heard her do some mental math. It must be the 6th she says. What were you calculating? I have a tech meeting at Athens on Monday, February 8 for Little Shop of Horrors. She then volunteered that the car that stopped for her was red. She remembered a blue Jeep but couldn't remember anything else. We then talked of all of the people who are praying and rooting for her. I told her of the e-mails and I read a few of them. She asked me to read the message from Mr. Crockett to the staff. I did. She acknowledged her appreciation of his kind words of support. She then asked if I would write an e-mail to Ms. Z. asking for someone to tape the tech meeting because I had just told her that she wouldn't be making the meeting - despite her best intentions.We sent this e-mail and several others she dictated. The promise was given that she could get online ASAP to check her own e-mail and to begin sending notes of thanks. We read the card sent by her Algebra II class. They had been so creative! Phoebe was, again, bowled over by their kind thoughtfulness. The fact that we all almost lost this sweetheart of a young lady was lost on no one. The effects of her concussion became a bit more obvious when she repeatedly asked,  "What day is it?" and,  "How did we get he here for thes X-rays?" She was taken to Radiology for flexion and extension x-rays. Finally she was going to be able to get the neck brace off. Provided all went well, it wouldn't be a moment too soon. It was not only uncomfortable, it was also stained with blood from the injuries and operations. The radiology tech and I were both surprised that she declined to take the proferred neck brace as a souvenir. After several additional repeated queries about the day, date and time, Phoebe attempted some breakfast. While Carol and I ate some bacon and eggs, Phoebe drank some orange juice mixed with medicine. The topic of conversation naturally drifted to what would be edible if blended finely enough. Phoebe is certain that a bacon smoothie will be in her near future. Carol seemed to be right on board with that but I, for one, cannot imagine the grease as it coagulates and separates from the meat. Thanks but no thanks. Phoebe was finally tired enough that she took a bona fide rest.