WEEKENDER

Much to report! I've finally got all of our digital photographs consolidated, so I can give you a virtual film reel of Dan's week. To start, here's a little bed-side gambit that just won't die. NIH has purple latex gloves. Important difference. Dave thought it'd be funny to blow one up, stuff it in Dan's sleeve, and then call the nurse to see what happens.



And then Dave decided that crying wolf at NIH probably wasn't the best idea. So they went about planting the purple hand into a number of other photographs. Including this one, in which Mark sexually harasses Dan and I watch on as his lawyer.



The Hand even found its way into the normally non-silly couple Tom and Mindi.



Dan looks incredibly animated in these pictures. Even when he's in the ICU, he's radiating charisma:



Dave seemed surprised that Dan had the presence of mind to request a photo while hooked up to ICU widgets, but ... he did. There're plenty more pictures from the ICU, but the betadine stains on his face make him look like Hannibal Lecter again, so I thought I'd save those for anyone who really wants them. Speaking of the Hannibal motif ... "May I see your credentials, please?"



The final wave of security isn't the front gates, it's Dan himself. That's Mark getting screened. I have to stop now and confess that all of these poses were cooked up by Dan's ceaselessly caring and fun brother, Dave. Even this one, in which I present Dan with some of the cellar's finest Shasta cola:



Or this one, in which Dave, Dad, Mark and Dan get into the post-Thanksgiving holiday spirit by dressing up as the Three Kings. I have no idea what's on top of Dan's Dad's head.



But all antics aside -- Dan's newest challenge seems to be finding a diet that doesn't clash to violently with the Percocet. Yes, for those of you keeping track at home ... or taking your own drugs to better empathize with Dan's current state of mind ... we've gone from Morphine, to delaudid (aka hydro-morphone), and now to Percocet.

But wait! There's more! I have the whole Thanksgiving recipe here! Ahem.

1. Morphine (4ml) for pain
2. Dilaudid - hydromorphine (2 gal.) for pain
3. Flexoril (1 tsp.) for stool softening. I think.
4. Paprika (just a dash) for NIH's patented stuffing seasoning
5. Valium (???mgs) because why not?

Again, the timing and dosage levels have been an on-going project. But for all the crap I gave the NIH nurses in the past, I must make special exception for Alex. Pictured below, giving Dan an urgent phone call. I mean, themometer.



Alex, I later discovered, was reading this blog. So I need to further backpedal and qualify my assessment of the nursing staff. In all honesty, they're great. And a couple days ago, as Dan was wafting in and out of consciousness, he made a point to lift his weary hand and declare to Alex, "I just want you to know ... you're a stud man."

But one glimpse at the prescription list should give you some idea of the pharmacological balancing act they're trying to work out. Now Dan's awake long enough to realize that he's hungry for more than Luigi's Ice Snacks. Here's the whole family digging in:



That's mom, dad, sister Kristen, Dave, and Dan muching in support of Dan's restricted diet. And here's another picture set up to look like Dan's about to puke into the bucket mom's holding. Funny thing is, after this cute photo-op, Dan actually did puke up the chicken soup shown here.



Ha ha! Careful there, momma Stroeh! You've been swept up into another wacky photo stunt! Only this one's real!

All this only goes to illustrate my earlier point. Dan seems to be handling the frustrations of hospital life with characteristic aplomb. But between photos, he's still rather restless, wracked with pain, and hungry for some buffalo chicken strips. Until that day arrives, he's got a handsome crop of disciples to do his bidding.



At a moment's noctice, we switch into action mode ...



A brief progress report. On Friday, Dan was getting out of bed and sitting in the chair with relatively little ceremony. On Saturday morning, he was walking down the hall with the aid of a walker and, as usual, his photo-op crew.



He walks! Those of us gathered around and charged with chronicaling his recovery have taken to photographing every detail with an archival precision usually reserved for newborn children. His first words! His first food! His first walk! His first bowel movement! And it's important. It wasn't until a doctor came in and reminded us that he's only been out of ICU for less than a week that we realized how much progress he's really made.

The medication and general queasiness made it hard to look at the computer monitor near his bed, but lately he's been able to see my slacker editorializing in perfect resolution:



Um, yeah. That's a frown of approval! No, it's another pose. But I thought you'd like to know that he's been checking his e-mail regularly now. So I'll continue to blog for a while and he'll check his own mail, unmediated.

I would end this post there, but I've got so many photos left to share. I've spent the better part of a day trying to organize my update around the dozens of pictures, but I'm resigned to the fact that Dan's family snaps pictures faster than I can caption them. So for now, just know that there are many many more pics to come. But I'll leave you this final image, which I think sums up Dan's character, plight, and surroundings rather nicely:



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