reason. On our flight to Rochester, a few folks appeared to be headed there-- their illnesses more outwardly apparent than Houlder's. I wonder what people might have though about us.
Looking at Houlder, my 6"5' burly man-son, who would guess how physically disabled he has become, how intense his brain fog is, or how he grabs the walls or my shoulders so that he does not pass out? Houlder has perfected the art of subtle need partially by design and partially due to being
16 years old and wanting to be an unencumbered teen.
We experienced all things airline related on time and no snow delays. Houlder and I had nothing to do on Monday. We had no wake up time, no time constraints, and no one else's needs to consider. We lolled --I read, he mine-crafted, and we both facebooked. We got up, had breakfast, explored Peace Park, a cool Barnes and Noble in a former movie theater, ate lunch, and Houlder crashed. He made it back to the room, but appeared almost to be stroking out.
I just breathe through it all. Grateful to for the promise of Mayo but holding a piece of my heart in check, protecting my feelings and perhaps Houlder's from disappointment. After two hours of massage, he relaxed enough to rest.
I scooted to pool and hot tub for an hour. I needed the time.
The hotel has a cocktail hour (free!) and it was packed with Mayo folks. The waitress knew certain patients by name. Folks recognized each other. We had an older couple chat with us in great detail about how Mayo had saved their lives. I wondered if this would be us by the end of the week.
Houlder did not feel well and headed back to room. I stayed to finish my wine with some guilt but maybe not enough.
By 7:45 I was back in our room. Houlder was restless, agitated and hungry again.
Room service.
More restlessness but then he succumbed to the sleep angels.
I fidgeted, facebooked, played words with friends and watched hgtv. I think I
might have slept an hour.
I feel as if we are about to lay out our soul and are praying and hoping
that the care providers here have the magic and skill to make us whole again.
All the while on the home front, William and Porter, age 7, lay a new kitchen floor, William and Dell ripped out a
toilet, and Frazer did some schoolwork. Oh, and it snowed. Face time, an apple thing, gave us face-to-face conversations. It was hard to have Porter, the contractor since birth, cry how much he missed us and would these doctors "make Houlder better."
Million dollar question sweet boy.
Karma, juju, prayers, naked dances under the moon, angst -- whatever you have my friends -- please include Houlder in your rituals this week.
Because here we go...hence the butterflies.
 |
| resting in Peace Park with Mayo Building in background |
 |
| nifty inside too |
 |
| view from our window-- destination Mayo |
 |
| gone |
 |
| banana cream pie |
 |
| every 7yo should be so gifted |
 |
| finished |
 |
| H |
 |
| snow day at home |
 |
| Peace Park |
No comments:
Post a Comment