Well, THAT's behind us....

Going through the motions, but not quite grasping reality. I'm beginning to develop a hospital-bed phobia. All I can see in my head is the yellow feet (iodine) on an otherwise very dead-looking father. There was iodine all over him - a jaundiced colour that does no justice to the grey, mechanically breathing body that was lying there.

In contrast, the round-faced, gentle nurse was smiling and optimistic - all went very well, and by this morning, Dad should be sitting ina chair and eating jello. Each new day for him is a day of grace.

I looked around the tubes and monitors to see if there was a pastor lurking around, and back at this body, watching the pump and tube breathe in, breathe out...this person lying here is NOT my Dad. I caught my eyes watering up as the whole vision of Mom lying there, looking more like HERSELF than she had in years, and the soft, Welsh voice repeating Psalm 23. Wait a minute - the sun is shining through a window, and the nurse is smiling.

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Audrey, a very dear friend of his, had noticed and laughed at the pink gown. My brother was calm and matter of fact. My son had completely forgotten that I had to go to Hamilton, so no questions asked; and my husband "cracked a joke" about seeing Dad grumpy again. I feel so very much alone.