Long conversation, Mental state concerns, Poop

We had the longest conversation we've had in 3 months! She made a huge leap from yesterday's singing "Happy Birthday" and getting winded after a few sentences over the phone. Today we both sat in chairs and talked for at least an hour & a half this morning & about the same at night. She said she loved me, wanted me to tell the kids she loves them. We said the Lord's Prayer this morning, and she took a turn praying before we left tonight (my aunt the nurse that Denise was asking for was with us). She asked lots of questions about losing the baby. We talked about Disneyland, the upcoming birthday party, and what to get Gracie for her birthday. She said that if we're not moving to Tennessee right away, maybe we should get a swing set. We talked about everything... family, work, food (she wants to actually eat & drink something), exercise (wants to go the rehab room in the hospital & ride a bike right away), her illness, her haircut, this blog... everything. So next time you visit, you might be lucky enought to actually get to talk to her (tonight was the first time her parents heard her speak since this mess began).
She had her speaking valve in for a long time today... her heart rate was still fast (120s-130s), but not so fast that they thought the valve should be removed. I also learned how to pop the valve on & off and how to inflate & deflate the cuff. I feel important now. She was sitting in a chair a few times as well, though her bottom was getting really sore. The goal was to get a 12-hours stretch off the vent. I'm not sure if that was achieved or not, but I never saw her on the vent today.

Temperature went to 103. Yuck.
The doctor caught me & Denise's dad this morning. Highlights of what he said were that he was concerned about Denise's state of awareness. I've noticed that she has been staring off more lately, but during our conversations today she was responding promptly and appropriately. She's not as animated as she's been at other times, but she did crack a few jokes & smiles. My hope is that once the fever & meds diminish, and once she gets rested & stronger, the mental concerns will be history. I'm encouraged by how much she talked about during our visits, though. He said that previously, a milder version of a med has been used against the cocci. He thinks that there must still be some cocci somewhere that they haven't found, and they're going to try to hit it with the nasty version of the med that has harsher side effects (he only mentioned the shakes). I assume, but could be wrong, that he referred to Ampho B, and they'll just go for straight-up Amphotericin. He also said that kidneys are doing good, liver stats are on their way to normal and liver should regenerate. The last ejection fraction showed about 20 (compared to 10 previously). While her heart took a beating, it's reasonable to expect that her heart can recover over time. That was great to hear.

I'm tired as can be. Before I go to sleep, here's a story to illustrate just how tired I am. I was changing Jacob. He had a poop, a dry-ish lumpy one. Usually I set the yucky diaper atop our changing table, and put it into the diaper trash bin after he's been changed and set safely back down on the floor. For some reason, I left the dirty diaper on the pad this time, folder over itself with the little prize inside. I had a hand on Jake so he wouldn't fall off the table, and my other hand was reaching for a baby wipe. He's a happy kid, and started singing a happy little tune, like he always does when cleaning up after a movement (I hope this behavior stops before he hits junior high). Then the scene took on a more challenging tone when he looked down and saw the diaper sitting there. Before I could do anything to stop him, he reached down for the diaper, grabbed a corner or two, and whipped his hand up & down frantically. He was like a pint-sized David, slinging a stinky stone at Goliath. Being that I was the only logical person in the room at the time who could play the role of Goliath, and being that I didn't want to get hit in the forehead with a poop, I side-stepped to try to get out of the line of fecal fire. Sure enough, the poop arced out of the diaper, and sure enough, it was heading right to where I was standing a second before. But did I just let it safely fall to the ground and clean it up later? No. I saw something flying, and so without thinking, I caught it, bare-handed. And I didn't just casually let it arc into my palm, either. I full-on *lunged* to snatch the poop out of the air.
Poor choices are the sure sign of a tired mind. Good night.

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