Scene: kitchen, this evening
"You know, I can't just say nothing at all about this... What am I allowed to write about your lung?"
"Whatever you want."
And so here I am, on a Wednesday night with one of the first free moments I've had since Sunday, pondering how to explain this... development.
Scene: hospital room, 58 hours before
"Madam, you can come back in the room now"
glancing at the fresh burgundy stain, is that iodine or blood?
"How are you?"
"I've been better in my life"
"It seems it hurt a lot."
"Oh my god, it hurt so much, ugh, I feel sick."
"You're breaking a cold sweat, you're maybe a little in shock, do you feel nauseous?"
"Well, that's at least good."
"I feel like I'm going to faint, it hurts so much"
"Just try to breathe deeply"
stroking hair, gently
"Oh, yeah. Um, just try to stay calm then and keep your breath even. Try not to think too much about it."
Scene: hospital room, 57 hours before
"I have to fart, but I'm worried if I do the doctor will come back just then."
"I've had to fart for awhile now, but I've been holding it for the same reason. He's a good doctor too, so, you know, I'd feel worse about it than if he wasn't. You know what though? You're already in a lot of pain, so go on, fart. Look, I'll fan the sheet for you."
"Ow, oh god, you can't make me laugh, it hurts."
"I'm sorry. Ok, no laughing allowed. You're right. This is serious."
"Can I look at it?"
All I seem to have is fragments for the moment, swimming about in a head full of doctor's instructions, wikipedia info, and accounts from people-who-know-someone-who-had-something-like-this, but I'll be back shortly with something more coherent and less cryptic soon.