People have been asking lately, "Is he lucid?"
The answer isn't easy.
The phentanol plays tricks on his brain. Sometimes he sees things, sometimes he hears things, sometimes he thinks it's time to leave. Like when he looked at me today and said, "Should we go now?"
But then he looks me in the eye and says, "Yeah, I know how messed up that is. I also thought it was tomorrow already, and could swear there was somebody in my room earlier who couldn't possibly be here."
So, he's not always lucid, but he knows he isn't, and I guess that means he is.
Basically he can fall asleep mid-sentence, fall into a dream instantly and when he wakes up, it's hard for him to keep track of awake vs asleep.
If I'm being totally honest - it's getting hard for me too.
Yoda and I drove to Rochester today. She made him card, had lunch in his room, brought him a painting from our neighbor.
He told me to take a picture of them for the blog. I'm not one for pointing a camera at somebody who doesn't feel well, but he said I should take one, so I did.
He still has a fever - 102 degrees. No less than five medical professionals have told us this is common after surgery, but we're leery. We've had to advocate for him all year, push for tests, ask for scans. It was me who suggested he had congestive heart failure on his fifth trip to Mayo (the one where they realized I was right and ambulanced him out of the doctor's office). We trust the doctors, but they are human, they have several patients. I have one. This one patient is my life.