I couldn’t sleep well last night. I tossed about and couldn’t find my right place in the bed. You weren’t there. Quinn was there instead and just as I finally did drift off to sleep, he managed to kick me in the head.
Quinn started the count down to when you are home for good. “Two weeks and two days!” He said gleefully this morning. He seemed to have a great sleep. He is wide-awake and ready to go first thing today.
I don’t know how set the ‘discharge date’ is yet. April 22 is on a Thursday and I’m on call again that weekend and have a vet meeting in Halifax on the Friday. I hope to take you home with me on the Friday for good. Official homecare won’t start until after the weekend. Luckily, that weekend I think I only work the nights. I will be able to manage the on call for the nights if I have someone to be on standby for help if needed in the middle of the night. That leaves the days free to be with you.
I can see that life is going to get more complicated when you get home.
You are sad today. “A headache” you said. You hung up on me for the first phone call. You were angry that I didn’t call you last night before bed. I try to help you understand that I couldn’t drive home from Halifax, pick up the children and get them settled in bed and get things ready for the today and get you called before 10pm. I know that you understand that I am trying, but having you hang up on me made me feel awful.
I called back right away. You talk and I listen and we talk more and you seem better. I swallowed hard and asked, “Did you smoke today?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. “I wanted to so I checked out the place outside to see if I could get myself there and back OK … but I didn’t smoke.”
The choice was yours and you choose not to smoke … today. I am proud of you. You had a rough day between the stress of me not calling you last night and a headache as well as all the other reasons you could find to justify to yourself that smoking a cigarette was OK – you still choose not to smoke. That is progress.
Quinn is counting down the days until you come home, you are counting up the days of choosing to not smoke and I am trying to count my blessings.