little things

Not much is fun about brain trauma, but sometimes we all laugh  or smile or treasure the moments that don't suck - and those are little things I don't want to forget. I don't share everything here - some moments are too tender, too raw, too "not mine to share". So the things I do write here, I either have Rico's permission to share, or they are things that I know he'd want the rest of you to hear. These are all things he thought might make you guys smile too.



It's been a running joke that no matter what Kaia is baking, Rico will stick his uninvited fingers in the batter for a sample. It's driven Kaia crazy for a decade. So today, while she made vanilla macarons for Nika's birthday, it broke my heart a little to see her step across the threshold of the kitchen and hold the bowl out to him.

She asked how it was. He said it was delicious - but "tastes better when it's stolen."

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He asked if I had scheduled his cremation yet.

I mentioned that it might be better if we waited to do that. He laughed pretty hard and said, "Yeah, yeah I guess that would be a good idea." Noah asked me to wait to schedule his as well.

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Ice Cream. Rico has decreed that anyone in his "god forsaken condition" should get to eat ice cream every night. So he does. One oreo blizzard every single night.

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Rico has been obsessed with my comfort when we sleep. He tales ambien at night, and I'm no drug expert, but how this $#!t is supposed to be helpful is beyond me. He talks all through the night, constantly reaches out to "fix" my blankets and wakes up giving shout outs to all his homies about 4 am. Last night was another winner. As I am finally getting some sleep, I feel a hand reach out and pull the pillow out from right under my head. I see him throw it across the room and I ask him what the actual hell he's doing.

"Just trying to help," he says.

Just.

Trying.

To.

Help.

He promptly goes back to sleep/

Between this type of help and the Fat Jacob scenario, I think I'll be doing things on my own from now on.

Comments

Lisa McDermott said…
My husband, who does not have the excuse of Brain cancer, regularly punches me in the middle of the night. For better or worse, but I want separate beds.

My prayers are daily for you during this holy (and holy hell) time.

Lisa