Come Together! Roger’s busted collarbone didn’t, so he’s having surgery tomorrow to fix it.

Bounty. Soooo many kind-hearted people have supplied us with meals during The Ordeal.

• Super yummy salmon chowder from Phoebe (I don’t really want to share the soup with the rest of my family, but a mom does what she must).
• Homemade rigatoni from my good friend Michelle, along with a delicious salad and artisan bread.
• Chicken Cacciatore from our across the street neighbors (who also mowed our lawn).
• Gourmet pizza from Kim and David, dear friends of nearly 20 years.

We are so blessed to have these people in our lives. We can never pay them back; we can only pass on their kindness.

More bounty. Roger grilled some steaks the other night, but I’d forgotten to pick up a vegetable from the store. I needed an emergency side dish.

So I went out to the garden I’ve been neglecting this year, and a hail-damaged acorn squash was ready to be picked. In spite of the pockmarks, its flesh was deLICIOUS with a little butter and maple syrup.

SO much more flavorful than store-bought.

Hair. Roger is sporting a beard for the first time since I’ve known him. His shaving arm can’t quite make it up to his face, and for some reason, he doesn’t trust me with a razor near his jugular.

Reads. Some open adoption articles that may be of interest to you:

• Breastfeeding in open adoption
• Insights from two adoptees
• What is open adoption NOT?

Want to apply for your own Examiner niche? It’s a paid gig. Email me for details.

Rock. Here‘s deep discussion of 1980s music (aren’t ALL discussions about 80s music deep?) and a review of the newly released soundtrack for the Broadway musical, Rock of Ages.

That’s the news and I am outta here.

Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than about creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

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It’s Saturday morning, 6 days since Roger came home from the hospital after The Ordeal.

Right after breakfast, Tessa and Reed are dancing to a mix CD I’d made for them years ago. They are hoe-downing with each other to Chumbawamba’s Tubthumping (“I get knocked down, but I get up again”). Their giggles are infectious, and Roger and I are only too happy to heed when they breathlessly command, “watch me!”

Segue to the next song. Tessa, with her winsome ways, says, “Dance with me, Daddy!”

As much as his broken ribs will let him, Roger Splish Splashes with his daughter, spinning and twirling her carefully while Reed and I cheer them on. The four of us are thrilled to be together on this sun-splashed morning, a day of promise and togetherness.

It’s joyous and my heart sings.

***

To see Tessa with her Aunt Sheri on the Utah vacation, click here.

What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Be sure to visit these moments and share the love.

Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than about creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

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I’m starting to feel like a One-Note Blogger, but hopefully this will be the last post labeled Surgical Room 19.

Here’s my perfect moment: Nurse Anne is wiping Roger’s name off the board, freeing up Room 19 for the next person who needs to be healed.

On to the next chapter….thankfully!

Now. What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Be sure to visit these moments and share the bloggy love.

Today brings some sunshine. Wethinks the end is in sight. Of the hospital stay, that is.

If you’re new to this storyline, my husband was in an accident on July 22. The unfolding is here.

Meds
On Wednesday, we got Roger off the pain med Fentanyl. What was gained from this?

• Because delivering Fentanyl requires 2 tubes going into the IV and an additional control cord, as well as a stand that needed to go everywhere with him, the presence of this contraption meant that any movement, like simply putting on a gown, was a complicated project that practically required a spreadsheet to coordinate. Mobility has been regained.
• The narcotic had been taking him away (think Calgon meets Quaaludes). Although he was lucid and able to talk, he was flat. The only way I can describe it is that he wasn’t there. Now his personality was regained.
• No more headaches and nausea.

What was lost? His ability to have pain relief delivered at the touch of the magic green button. A worthwhile trade-off.

Chest tube
It’s still in. The problem is two-fold. First, until this morning, the top of the lung was separating from the pleura, meaning the vacuum seal that makes the lungs work was compromised, there was air in the chest cavity and the lung was still just a little collapsed. Today’s xray showed improvement.

Secondly, while the color of the draining fluid is now very light pink (which is good) the tube will stay in until the volume of the fluid is near 100 ml a day. The most recent check was 400 ml.

Prognosis
If tomorrow’s xray shows a lifted lung, and if tomorrow’s drainage shows not too much more than 100 ml, the docs will clamp the tube for several hours (simulating the absence of the tube, without taking it out yet) to see how Roger’s body responds. Will his body reabsorb the fluid? Or will it begin collecting in the lung?

If the latter, he keeps the tube in another day.

If the former, they’ll pull out the tube (they say it’s painless), play Wait & See for a few hours, and then pack up all the stuff the room has accumulated and come home. With a lot of Percocet.

And maybe something for Roger, too.

Roger just gave himself a sponge bath — guess I’ve been fired. He took a Percocet in anticipation of his first foray off the ward — we are having a date in the cafeteria. He looks very handsome in his gown and nearly full beard, and he’s carrying his own lung bucket. I am wearing the shirt Lollipop Goldstein sent me from BlogHer09 that says, Born To (front) Blog (back).

One of our more memorable Date Nights.