Things I Think About While Sitting With Dad in Icu.

Dads in ICU, and it's kind of a waiting game so while we wait my mind wanders.
  1. We're his legs always that hairless?
    I wouldn't say they're bald but fairly follicle devoid.
  2. Why is this room so cold?
    Matter of fact why was the last room so cold? 100's of 1000's dollars worth of equipment and we haven't figured out how to keep him cool while allowing his visitors to avoid Eskimo conditions.
  3. Did he just move?
    Or was that posturing? I swear he moved. Nope, posturing.
  4. That was definitely a cough.
    Normally coughs are bad I know, especially given the frigid temp in here. But in this case it's good.
  5. Why am I starting to appreciate the sound of a ventilator?
    Maybe it's the rythmic nature of it, kind of therapeutic strangely.
  6. Now I feel guilty about appreciating what life support sounds like.
  7. What if.
    I have faith so why do the most terrible "what ifs" come to mind?
  8. Is it getting colder in here?
  9. Dad has a lot of people praying for him.
  10. Do the nurses or docs know something they aren't telling me?
    I keep getting a look like something terrible is coming. I get that there's never a set of rosy circumstances that brings or keeps someone in icu. So the secrets out.
  11. Sitting here is about the worst possible thing.
    Then I think about how everyone in neighboring rooms are thinking the same exact thing. And staff for ICU are surrounded by that kind of energy constantly.
  12. All this food
    People are cooking and cooking and cooking for us. Dads missing out. Enchiladas. Lasagna. Penne. You name it. Dads. Missing. Out.
  13. When he wakes up, will he feel rested after all this sleep?
  14. Is mom gonna be ok?
  15. Is she ok now?
  16. How am I gonna sleep with all these lights on.
  17. How's dad doing it?
    Then I look at the sedative IV drop.
  18. Would I handle this with as much grace as mom seems to be?
  19. There's so much I'll never understand.