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From Velma, over at Making Light at 12; 24 am October 17th:
Back to the ICU today, where his blood pressure has gone down to a reasonable level. If it stays down tonight, theyapos;ll try to get him back up to the stroke unit. (Mind you, they moved him at 6am, and when I went there, shortly after noon [Iapos;d overslept], theyapos;d left all his belongings upstairs. Hmph.)

He was 18 years old for a while today, again, glaring at me somewhat skeptically, then 44 and wondering why I kept asking him how old he was. At one point, he drank the apple juice they had left for him, then took the little pink pitcher (which Bill had filled with about a quart of ice and water), removed the lid himself, and drank out of it without spilling any on himself. (Which is better than I can do -- I always get ice bouncing down my chin.)

He got very goofy at me this evening, rolling his eyes, and sticking his tongue out. He has more words, when heapos;s awake, and is bouncing back and forth between getting angry and frustrated, and making a face and saying, "Oh, well." Heapos;s also asking a lot of questions about time: how long have I been here? how long will it take to leave?

(I did speak with the social worker today, and am not thrilled with the way we have to request the emergency grants, but so it goes.)

Heapos;s going through a lot of mood swings, which is to be expected, of course: frustration, confusion, resignation, anger, and "this sucks, but itapos;s also weird" or something like it.

And yes, he did try to climb out of the bed and stand up again, and he got very cranky when I thwarted him again; he forgave me, though, and pulled me over to kiss him before I left for the night.

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