mipmup.

a brief travel guide.

things that are really cool if you are in the midwest:

• driving the speed limit, or below
• not honking
• not changing lanes to go around the car in front of you if they are turning left
• sleeveless t-shirts (guys only)
• mullets (gender neutral)
• having a "faith and values" section in your newspaper
• studying the bible with two of your girlfriends during your lunch hour
• being nice and flexible - always
• saying "how do" to strangers
• clean air
• having an "american" car
• white people - everywhere (that's kinda scary actually)
• noise pollution consisting solely of the cicadas at night
• spending an evening watching this on lifetime (yes, i really did)

better.

things are going better with my dad. he is finally awake (though not like you and me), but still in a coma technically. we are hoping to fly him out to california monday or tuesday of next week. i'm really happy. today, he began to speak (ramble, really) and that was just an incredible moment for me. to see my father near death two weeks ago and now to see his eyes open and hear his voice. well, it's indescribable. i'm just thrilled. thanks for being patient with me. i promise to get back to posting on beauty products and all of the other really, really important things in life shortly.

yikes.

i'm feeling a bit better tonight. dad is doing really well and is able to communicate using "yes" and "no" nods of the head. he can't talk because of the vent, but it's great to see him understand our questions and respond. he even smiled when i showed him pics of the grandchildren. i can feel the frustration building though as he made a tight fist tonight with his right hand. he also held out his arm and two fingers (don't know why, but it definitely looks like he's trying to tell us something: "you two get out?"). my dad has a really bad temper and my sister and i think that it's reaching defcon orange. we are afraid that he's gonna explode. yikes.

what am i feeling?

dad is doing ok. he is still not awake* (or "he is still in a coma on life support"), but we had a good day today. he opened his eyes and really seemed to be there. it's a hard thing to describe. i've only seen his eyes open three times in the past 11 days i've been at the hospital. the two other times were sort of robotic in a sense. like his eyes were open, but he wasn't really focused or seeing anything. and no blinking. it's really odd. today, he opened his eyes as my sister and his good friend were staring down at him. as my sister and i spoke, he moved his eyes toward us. real movement! and he blinked! then his eyes began to tear, his face turned red and his blood pressure began to rise. he looked into my eyes and i felt him hurting to see me hurting. it was an extraordinarily powerful moment. i began to cry and turned away because i didn't want him to see me crying. i wept for a little bit then went back to him. he opened his eyes for a bit longer, moved his hand, his fingers and then finally, went to sleep.

i went back to the private waiting room at the hospital, called my husband and sobbed. i'm not sure what i'm feeling. i am joyful. i am so happy. but there is also sadness. i'm trying to take all of this in and i just don't know how to work it out.

i've been in the strange city more than a thousand miles away from home, now in a long-term apartment and it all seemed like it hit me today. the realization that dad may never be the same. may never laugh again (his injury is in the brain's "humor" section). may never be able to hug me. may never be able to read.

and we're leafing through this information on rehab centers. for my dad. for my dad who was supposed to retire. enjoy life. grow old with his grandchildren. all that sappy shit. and while we don't know for certain what will happen, what we do know is that dad, our family and i are forever changed by this accident. i guess this is called shock or something. if anyone has any reference material that can help me cope with the enormity of the situation, i'd be forever grateful.

i have so many good stories to share with you when i can. stories about the kindness of strangers, the human spirit, the love of family and the character of my father. he has dimensions i never knew about. i promise i will write about these things soon.

* why do medical people need to use euphemisms?

improving.

dad is still not awake, but he is doing better each day. this is day four of steady improvement. still not awake, but is moving more. he's moved his hands (and fingers on one hand), his eyes, mouth and legs. he is off all meds except pain and is getting more "wire-less" each day. the lacerations are looking really much better and the staples are out of his head. they are using neosporin, so i'm thinking that product needs to be on my "friday favorites" at some point. we are just trying to be optimistic, but not unrealistic about his condition. he is basically at level one on these levels, so he has a long way to go.

thank you all so much for the comments. they are keeping me going.

good day.

dad had a good day yesterday, which was very positive. we are still in the critical phase, but we remain hopeful. thanks so much for your notes. they bring me strength.

setbacks.

had setbacks today with dad. more swelling of the brain, which is bad. in fact, his brain is worse than when he first came into er. back to a 50-50 chance of survival. anyway, they are giving him medication to get more blood to the brain to help. will have another catscan tomorrow morning so we should know more then.

i am hanging in there pretty well. i can still see the light and am trying to be positive. i am reflecting on how little i knew about dad's circle of friends as i receive a flood of emails from old friends and co-workers. i am looking at him with new eyes after all these years. he talked about us to people. he is proud of us. he changed people's lives. he gave direction. he provided guidance. he is perceived as strong, tough, determined. i've received emails from my friends and family that have brought tears to my eyes because of their eloquence. they have made me feel cared for and loved.

will write more soon.

dad update.

got some good news today. dad's condition is not characterized as life-threatening at this point. the doctor said that if he hadn't been wearing his helmet, we wouldn't be talking today. thanks for all of your good positive wishes. it really helps here in hospitalville. i'll continue to keep you updated and hopefully, can share some of the very odd things i've encountered along the way.

bad news.

some bad news here. my dad was in a serious motorcycle accident today and i had to fly out of town to be with him. he is in critical condition and has suffered severe head trauma with brain swelling, a broken collarbone and fractured leg. there are tubes coming out all over and he is on a respirator. if you could please take a minute to send him a positive thought today, i'd really appreciate it. i'll keep you posted as i'm able. (thank god for wireless internet even in smallish towns.)

odd.

weird things seen, heard and done today:

• a little tiny pink pig on a leash (i know. this is la. i shouldn't be surprised).
• a completely handmade, hand-stitched wedding quilt.
• a neighbor who barely knows our names asking for help.
• a tomato, oatmeal and lemon mask on my face.
• on why a friend isn't feeding her baby table food: "i'm afraid she'll choke."
• same friend on crawling: "I'm afraid she won't crawl." (well maybe if you put something out of her reach she'll have a reason to.)
• a photo of our friends in their bathroom. (just doesn't work for me as i'm sitting on the pot.)
• walking a mile to our friends' house with the thought that the walk would "work out the pain" in my legs from yoga yesterday.
• why was frida more about diego?
• being asked to pet-sit a stranger's schnauzer.
• your little cat is so cute!