The four littlest are safely tucked in bed, while Kevin and Joey watch a movie. No change with Michael. He’s still in the hospital, in a great deal of pain even though he’s drugged up on push-button pain meds, and as of an hour ago, he still hadn’t even seen a freaking doctor, just has the nurses looking after him. No idea what’s going to happen. I went to see him this afternoon and I’ll tell you, it was hard. I would have stayed away if I could have; I would have been a coward if I could have gotten away with it. I hate that hospital. I know they saved my husband’s life a while back, but it’s wrapped up with so many bad memories for us. He’s in the same unit now that he was in after his initial cancer surgery, and it all came rushing back to me when the elevator opened to that floor and I walked down that familiar hallway into the familiar-looking room, and found him there in bed, barely coherent or recognizable. I stayed for a while and then made a run for it. He was so out of it, I don’t think he had any idea how long I stayed.
Back home, life goes on. There was still grocery shopping to do, dinner to be cooked and eaten, baths to be given, stories to be read, and fears to be soothed. The house is quiet now, not so different from a night when Michael might work late or go to jam with his buddies at the studio. But of course it feels different because he’s not working or jamming, he’s in the hospital, and so much feels unknown right now.