They took DiL off the ventilator today, and he’s breathing well on his own. A world of hurray. He’s awake and responsive–although a bit disoriented–and stubborn as all get out. He keeps pulling off the oxygen mask and trying to talk, although he shouldn’t because of how raw his throat is, and everything he says is a variant of “leave now” and “I want to go home.” He’s also asking for ice cream, but he’s not allowed to eat until tomorrow because anything he’d swallow right now would aspirate into his lungs.
I wish we could give him some ice cream. And God, I wish we could take him home. When the nurse, MiL, and fosteronfilm and I told him he was too weak to get out of bed, much less stand and walk out, he said he’d crawl out of the hospital if he had to. I’d feel the same way in his place.
Although his heart, lungs, and kidney are ailing, my DiL’s a stubborn man, and his will is strong as a rocky iron strong thingy. It’s heartbreaking trying to get him to stay still. And the nurses are looking rather peaked around the eyes already. One of them has already threatened to put him in restraints if he keeps trying to pull himself out of bed.