Weeping
Dear Ones,
Last night Chester slept deep and well. We woke up often, but he quickly fell back asleep once pillows were in place and his snoring was a rich symphony of rest. Last night was the first night of sleeping with the sutures out, so I was very aware of his head wound. I checked often during the night, and there was no signs of bleeding or weeping from his the six inch, horseshoe shaped wound. This morning we were both delighted that there was no ooze on his pillow case. There were two small spots of blood on his forehead, and in the morning light I traced them up to a small site of bleeding, a point where one of the sutures had been removed. Feeling optimistic about his head staying closed up and healing more fully this time.
This morning during his Physical Therapy session, where he walked outside and climbed 18 stairs, his head began the slightest weeping, a clear drop from one point at the top of his wound. Doreen and Chester decided to end the session early and Chester got in bed to rest. He propped himself up with a mountain of pillows and the cozy husband pillow, elevated his legs, and within minutes was snoring. I called Dr. Tang's office and reported the weeping. I called Chester's Speech Therapist and consulted with her, agreeing to reschedule for a time Chester was more able to talk with her.
As he slept, I periodically checked on his head. The weeping continued, and increased to a pool of pale yellow ooze. I donned my gloves and caught the run-off with sterile gauze, breathing with Chester and praying that the wound would settle down and rest with Chester. As he napped, the oozing stopped. I swept the floors, cleaned the bathroom and organized the closet. Chester brings out the Virgo in me- I want everything clean for him, everything just-so to ease his movement and activity, a place for everything where he can reach it easily and readily. My mother would be very proud of the housekeeping that flows when it is in service.
Chester woke up at 12:30, just as Jaime was pulling in. I was packed and ready to leave Chester, and I was so sad to be leaving him. I felt my wings flutter at the prospect of three days away. Tomorrow is my 25th birthday, so Jaime is Chester's primary companion for the weekend while I rest at home and receive touch from 25 (or more for good luck?) friends and lovers. I sat with Chester and cried as Jaime and Auggie moved in for the weekend. Chester's head began weeping again as he sat up and transferred to his chair. It had calmed down and stayed dry even as Chester transferred twice to go to the bathroom. By the time I left it was stable and calm. Dr. Tang was due to call any minute. With deep breaths, I rolled out the door and Jaime drove me to BART. I did deep pelvic breathing the whole way home, 25 minutes under the bay. Arrived home for the first time in 10 days and wept, crashing onto my bed and being held by my roomates as I sobbed. A huge mix of missing Chester, unguarded relxation, the pleasures of arriving to a beloved home, the split of half of my presence still in the East Bay. Breathing.
I just got off the phone with Jaime. Chester's head has totally settled down and he is feeling good, all-things-considered (We laugh in bewilderment everytime someone asks "and how are you today?"). They had talked to Dr. Tang and are being careful with Chester's beautiful head but aren't too worried about the brief weeping. Weeping, clearly, is part of healing. A lesson for us all. They rescheduled Occupational Therapy for tomorrow. Marilyn is joining them soon for Sushi before she flies to Hawaii tomorrow for work. (I dream of bringing Chester entire armfuls of fish, still flapping fresh from the ocean.) Jaime assured me that all is well. The "Healthy Chester" team, Chester included, has a policy of transparency. I know that Jaime would tell me if I needed to be concerned. I hear Chester breathing in the background, and I am assured.
So here I am in San Francisco, listening to Loreena McKennitt, full volume, and settling into home. Breathing into what it feels like to _not_ be with Chester. Still feeling so full of his presence, as I know so many of you feel. I know that even folks who have not seen him in years, or who live literaly on the other side of the planet, or who were only in class with him just that once, or so many other folks (some who have never met him?) are Feeling Him so deeply these days. So many people holding him in their prayers, thoughts, hearts, guts, loins, and hands. A truly astonishing amount of presence flowing between so many people all over the world. Breathe into it, my friends, it is truly awe-some.
I'll be back with Chester on Monday, hopefully with huge energy generated on my birthday, lots of sleep and rest, fresh laundry and a fixed digital camera (!!!). I hope to have pictures to post for you all by early next week. Until then, keep holding Chester close. Enjoy each breath and know that you are also held in reverence and care. My birthday wishes are for us all. . . .
Chrys
Last night Chester slept deep and well. We woke up often, but he quickly fell back asleep once pillows were in place and his snoring was a rich symphony of rest. Last night was the first night of sleeping with the sutures out, so I was very aware of his head wound. I checked often during the night, and there was no signs of bleeding or weeping from his the six inch, horseshoe shaped wound. This morning we were both delighted that there was no ooze on his pillow case. There were two small spots of blood on his forehead, and in the morning light I traced them up to a small site of bleeding, a point where one of the sutures had been removed. Feeling optimistic about his head staying closed up and healing more fully this time.
This morning during his Physical Therapy session, where he walked outside and climbed 18 stairs, his head began the slightest weeping, a clear drop from one point at the top of his wound. Doreen and Chester decided to end the session early and Chester got in bed to rest. He propped himself up with a mountain of pillows and the cozy husband pillow, elevated his legs, and within minutes was snoring. I called Dr. Tang's office and reported the weeping. I called Chester's Speech Therapist and consulted with her, agreeing to reschedule for a time Chester was more able to talk with her.
As he slept, I periodically checked on his head. The weeping continued, and increased to a pool of pale yellow ooze. I donned my gloves and caught the run-off with sterile gauze, breathing with Chester and praying that the wound would settle down and rest with Chester. As he napped, the oozing stopped. I swept the floors, cleaned the bathroom and organized the closet. Chester brings out the Virgo in me- I want everything clean for him, everything just-so to ease his movement and activity, a place for everything where he can reach it easily and readily. My mother would be very proud of the housekeeping that flows when it is in service.
Chester woke up at 12:30, just as Jaime was pulling in. I was packed and ready to leave Chester, and I was so sad to be leaving him. I felt my wings flutter at the prospect of three days away. Tomorrow is my 25th birthday, so Jaime is Chester's primary companion for the weekend while I rest at home and receive touch from 25 (or more for good luck?) friends and lovers. I sat with Chester and cried as Jaime and Auggie moved in for the weekend. Chester's head began weeping again as he sat up and transferred to his chair. It had calmed down and stayed dry even as Chester transferred twice to go to the bathroom. By the time I left it was stable and calm. Dr. Tang was due to call any minute. With deep breaths, I rolled out the door and Jaime drove me to BART. I did deep pelvic breathing the whole way home, 25 minutes under the bay. Arrived home for the first time in 10 days and wept, crashing onto my bed and being held by my roomates as I sobbed. A huge mix of missing Chester, unguarded relxation, the pleasures of arriving to a beloved home, the split of half of my presence still in the East Bay. Breathing.
I just got off the phone with Jaime. Chester's head has totally settled down and he is feeling good, all-things-considered (We laugh in bewilderment everytime someone asks "and how are you today?"). They had talked to Dr. Tang and are being careful with Chester's beautiful head but aren't too worried about the brief weeping. Weeping, clearly, is part of healing. A lesson for us all. They rescheduled Occupational Therapy for tomorrow. Marilyn is joining them soon for Sushi before she flies to Hawaii tomorrow for work. (I dream of bringing Chester entire armfuls of fish, still flapping fresh from the ocean.) Jaime assured me that all is well. The "Healthy Chester" team, Chester included, has a policy of transparency. I know that Jaime would tell me if I needed to be concerned. I hear Chester breathing in the background, and I am assured.
So here I am in San Francisco, listening to Loreena McKennitt, full volume, and settling into home. Breathing into what it feels like to _not_ be with Chester. Still feeling so full of his presence, as I know so many of you feel. I know that even folks who have not seen him in years, or who live literaly on the other side of the planet, or who were only in class with him just that once, or so many other folks (some who have never met him?) are Feeling Him so deeply these days. So many people holding him in their prayers, thoughts, hearts, guts, loins, and hands. A truly astonishing amount of presence flowing between so many people all over the world. Breathe into it, my friends, it is truly awe-some.
I'll be back with Chester on Monday, hopefully with huge energy generated on my birthday, lots of sleep and rest, fresh laundry and a fixed digital camera (!!!). I hope to have pictures to post for you all by early next week. Until then, keep holding Chester close. Enjoy each breath and know that you are also held in reverence and care. My birthday wishes are for us all. . . .
Chrys
posted by Chrys Curtis-Fawley at 4:31 PM
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