Blowin' This Popsicle Stand

Mark's busy ordering up a drug cocktail and I've just finished scarfing down a homemade chicken pot pie that's so good it'll make you cry (thanks Mikelle). He'll fall asleep and I'll watch some Boy Meets World reruns, stare at the beautiful baskets being delivered and read some trashy gossip magazines. If things get crazy, as they usually do in Rm516, I might even floss my teeth. This is our life.

But not for long.

We're busting out of this joint.

Well, fingers crossed.

Mark's surgeon just stopped by. The very surgeon I begged and pleaded with after last night's not-so-spectacular surgery. It was a few minutes pre-pity party when I told him I really felt Mark would heal so much better from the comfort of his own home, where he could watch DVRed episodes of Pawn Stars and stare longingly at the garage full of bikes he couldn't ride (okay so I left that last part out). So could he pretty please head home in between surgeries while we wait for the swelling to go down. He looked at me as if I had just asked him to sneeze with his eyes open (I guess my pouty face doesn't have quite the same effect it did when I was 5), and gave me a laundry list of things that had to occur before he'd let that happen.

Consistently maintain adequate oxygen levels without being on oxygen: check.

Get his blood sugar levels stabilized: check.

Get him off an IV without showing signs of dehydration: check.

Eliminate IV pain medication and switch to oral pain meds: check.

Prove to physical therapist he could transition from bed to chair and use crutches to get up one step without touching his injured leg on anything or placing any weight on it (this would ensure he could get from wheelchair to car seat and then up the one step into our front door): check.

Because today was a ridiculously good day at our home away from home, he blew through that list (which he of course did without knowing there was a list, because it's possible I purposely neglected to mention the list to him for fear our exit wouldn't materialize). And so when his surgeon peeked his head into the room tonight, once again proclaiming Mark had a "World Class Break," he also said, depending on how tonight & tomorrow day goes, he might give orders to have home health come out to our house and let us temporarily check out of Hotel St. Lukes until next week!

I'm already packing.