7:00 am The older kids are awake. I've been reading in bed for a while, unable/unwilling/unnecessary trying to go back to sleep. Soon we'll go downstairs and have our breakfast and decide what to do for the day.
8:00 am Lynda calls and asks me to clean the bathrooms while I'm here at home. Not my regular type of chore (in fact, I avoid that one as often and as completely as I can) but I can't say no . . . nor would I in any case.
9:00 am I've consulted with Sarah and Grace and they have decided to go see Hotel for Dogs after lunch. It'll be a good way to keep them occupied. Hannah should be starting her surgery soon.
10:30 am The bathrooms are clean(ish) and I've gotten a visit from a wandering Jehovah's Witness who handed me a tract, read me a Bible verse and asked me to consider "Who rules the world?" I listened politely.
I'll call Lynda in a few minutes to see how things are going. Hopefully our church priest is there visiting with her since I can't be. I'm sure she is nervous.
10:45 am The surgery went fine. Hannah has to recover for a while, but Lynda will be bringing her home in an hour or two. She hasn't seen her yet, but the doctor said things went very well. I hope Hannah isn't terribly uncomfortable for the rest of the day, but I expect she will be. Now the grim march of recovery must begin.
2:25 pm Back home again and the family is together once more. Hannah is home and sitting beside me eating some toast. Her right eye is securely patched and her voice sounds a bit hoarse (due to the breathing tube they gave her during the surgery), but all things considered, she is doing surprisingly well. She's staring into space a bit and absent-mindedly scratching her right side as she chews her toast piece. But she is looking around and showing alert interest in things. She hasn't scrabbled much at her bandage . . . but that will likely come later.
Hotel for Dogs was surprisingly decent . . . for a kids movie. In my childhood, it would have been a Benji story, but here is it focused on an orphaned brother and sister who are nicely scrubbed and bright eyed (though they've been in the foster system for many years). The loss of the parents in never explained and the current foster family is stereotypically, buffoonishly unable to parent (they are failing "musicians"). Thus the kids have free reign to roam the city and get into all sorts of cinema-friendly hijinks with their trusty dog named "Friday."
The siblings take in stray dogs (get it?) and house them in an appropriately grand abandoned hotel full of furniture and stuff that would have been looted long ago in a world where homelessness exists. But nevermind. The young brother has a mechanical bent (which he inherited from his dad . . . and never speaks of again) which allows him to construct many Rube Goldberg contraptions that keep the dogs fed, watered, exercised, and clean.
But the center eventually falls apart in the second act--as plot rules say it must--and the children, their newly photogenic friends (along with the stereotypically funny fat kid . . . oh, let's call him "Chunk"), and the dogs are all in danger of losing their idyllic life on the unseen margins.
Will it work out in the end?
5:31 pm I took Hannah for a walk around and through the neighborhood earlier in the afternoon. (Fresh air heals wounds faster, right?) It was a chilly day, but keeping moving kept me warm and I walked around the block and then down a different side street--making sure that I saved the downhill part of the final leg for the return trip (right Sven?). It felt nice to get outside on a pretty day and stretch the legs. And Hannah was quiet and drowsy throughout. I thought Lynda might take the chance to lay down and rest or (more likely) pull out her computer and do some afternoon work . . . but when I came home she was playing Monopoly, Jr. with Sarah and Grace. I let them finish the game while Hannah and I played in the basement. . . . And then it was my turn to play the game while Hannah had some dinner. Perhaps she'll go to sleep early tonight, but I don't have many illusions that she'll sleep soundly this night or many nights in the coming future.
Tomorrow morning Lynda (I think?) will take her to an early appointment to remove the bandage. And we'll move forward.
She's a strong one. Not any serious complaints and has handled it all very well. (I do think it is better to do this sort of thing when they are younger and less aware. It allows them to be more resilient, maybe? Sure, there will be complains and crying, but that would have happened no matter what the age.)
6:55 pm Just finished eating a very nice meal provided to us by one of our friends from church--pork roast, green beans, stuffing, cheesy potatoes . . . even grapes, oranges, and dessert. I wonder if THAT is the answer to the Jehovah's Witness that came by earlier in the day? Who rules the world? Kind people doing charitable things to help others . . . if we choose.
1 comment:
Just one bit of medical advice: let Hannah wear the pink glasses once in a while, and let their healing power do its work. Although they do look good on you!
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