Dailies

Anyone wants an iPhone pic of me with a dark, gaping, pre-bandaged hole in my neck, let me know.

Hospital dinner’s gotten worse than usual, tonight. Good thing I have willing friends who get takeout and have squirreled away fruit, water, and Blenheim ginger ales (God bless you, Mr NathanMehlwater) from previous meals. Matt Pierotti has been visiting for the weekend, while Eliza and Ro Browning and Sarah Shectman came down for the day. [...]

I’m sitting in my wheelchair, breathing room air and wearing a new-this-afternoon “red cap” on my trach, hunting and pecking on my laptop after a surprisingly decent hospital-provided meal. (Eggplant and tomatoes and parmesan cheese over pasta, cantaloupe, foil-topped pudding.) Room air breathed through my mouth and nose feels great, and my oxygen saturation backs [...]

two relatively quiet days hanging with my dad, eating solid food and looking out the window at the snow. Typing is still all index fingers, eyes, and curse-accompanied deletions. Remembered partway through yesterday that such things as video/audio chatting exist, and have been chatting up a storm since then. (I’m “adam.e.hirsch” on Skype and “qqbazz” [...]

Holy carp. Just ate an actual lunch — under supervision, natch. Tuna on wheat. Bowl of grapes. Cantaloupe. Ginger ale. Ice water. Not a drop of blue dye in sight. All went fine, though my awesome speech/swallow therapist says I’m “a little intense” on the concentration front. And the best part? Tonight: dinner. Tomorrow: breakfast. [...]