ICU

It's quiet, but not in the same way the other room was. It's in the way everyone moves and the hushed voices one instinctively uses in someone's sick room. Even the alarms are unobtrusive...a polite beeep beeep beeep in almost a melodic tone. Lights flash from time to time on the monitor behind her bed silently triggering a quiet visit from the nurse.

They forget she's blind. They'll enter silently and give a familiar, warm, reassuring smile before half stepping behind the IV pumps to press the control pad on the wall. I watch them, watch as they flip through menu options on the monitor from across the small room...usually they trigger the blood pressure cuff, though sometimes they click "print" and, giving that same smile, slip out of the room. Most of the time she'll ask me, "was someone just in here, honey?" and I tell her everything I just watched. She's grateful for my eyes and for someone letting her know what's going on with her own care.

I miss her when she fades and it scares me when she stops making sense. When I'm not there I can't walk away from my cell phone and I keep my car keys close at hand. I am in a perpetual state of READY. The hard part is not knowing what I'm ready for.

I tell people "she's a tough old bird" with a confident half chuckle and brings a polite smile and agreement from those that have been working with her, or a look of having been reassured by those new to her case. She is, too, she's a tough old bird. Still, somehow, this time is different...I wish I could lay a finger on how it is, but I haven't been able to so far.

Surgery in a few more days, unless her heart "forces their hand". Until then I'll keep up my love-hate relationship with visiting hours and maybe buy stock in Starbucks since I seem to be more living on their products than sleep or even air at this point.

Thank God for family, for being able to switch off so I can wolf down the lunch that's been brought to the ICU waiting room for me and get a chance to write for a minute so it's not all in my head and heart.