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Show 192 I have learned from the past eight times that this vomiting is the beginning of my return. It will not be long now before I am breathing on my own. I am watching the seconds go by on the clock and suddenly I suck air with a gripping jerk. It seems everyone in the room is joining me in breathing once again. Someone laughs. The nurse on the telephone relays my first breath to Dr. Chappie I am reborn and we are all proud parents. The pump has been off for several hours. There is no way to anticipate this positional overdose, nor does there appear to be any way to prevent it. Tears are coming into my eyes and fall freely down my cheeks, acrid fear and joyful relief mixing together in this salty, healing brine. A nurse is kindly washing the tears and my vomit from my face with a warm, damp washcloth. I will not be able to move fully for awhile yet but my strength is returning slowly, moment by moment. It is a short reprieve. I understand that within hours I will be totally stiff. Barely able to suck air with ribs so tight, heart pounding, trying to feed greedy muscles, fearing startle or massive spasms that perhaps now simply start on their own. We will then call Dr. Chappie for orders to turn on the pump, for how long, for what newly lowered magical dosage this time. And I know that when we turn on the pump, this group, this happy party, now slowly exiting my room will in all probability meet here once again sometime thereafter. |