My Favortie Cliche Proverb Whatever thingy

"What a difference a day makes."

Damn. No kidding. No more painkillers. No more sedation.

Dad is snapping his fingers, trying to talk, pointing at everything, watching TV... I made him laugh when I said "I am not massaging your feet." He had his glasses on for a short while, but they were giving him a headache so pulled them off himself.

He got a shave yesterday, and I ran him through a few options, each with an increasingly judgmental look at me and my absurdity.

"Dad wants Elvis sideburns."
{A look}
"Dad wants a goatee."
{A harder look}
"Dad wants a Fu Manchu."
{A WTF look}
"OK. Mustache. Down to here."
I whispered to the nurse to leave a soul patch. She didn't listen.

While I was by his side I untied his restraints. He scratched his head, he traced the scar on his skull, and he even covered his mouth when he coughed (which is cute since he's in the trach tube so all the snot comes out the hole in his neck). He also opened his mouth wide and pointed to his tongue. No swallowing yet, so I felt a little bad. I'm pleased with all this as it's fine motor control.

Unfortunately all of this panicked mom. "dont let him... what are you?!... ugh!" I told dad not to poke his brain or pull on the tubes or wires. He listened.

He can easily identify his pain, as he did when tracking the belly incision with his hand when I asked him where it hurt. I'm happy for this. I've told him to snap his fingers at the nurse and point to where it hurts when it hurts.

Physical therapy again today, with the exception that they're taking it easy.

Dad and Esh are sitting down, but mom really is that height. She once placed her palms on both of my cheeks and said, "Ay mijo, I'm so glad you're head wasn't that big when I gave birth to you."