HITCH

 Jim had a setback yesterday. So, I have to admit, I did too. He had a fever set in, so it was obvious there's some Kind of infection going on. The chest x ray from the night before show changes, and the trach area definitely has something going on. That's what they tell me. They keep it simple, because they really don't know. But what's going on with him is not simple. It's a  layered, complex health puzzle, that really doesn't allow you to say anything that you know for sure. It's just for now. So he now has a broad spectrum of antibiotics to cover most likely candidates of bacteria. After cultures are in, they will have the exact culprits, if there are any, and so medications change accordingly.

What I saw was how uncomfortable and completely vulnerable he is. That big, strong, active man at the mercy of strangers and microscopic invaders. And there's not a darn thing I can do about it.

When Jim was first admitted, any medical person that came in to attend to him was just meeting him for the first time. They don't know how vital and alive he is as a man. So I pull out my phone, and I open up the screensaver that has my favorite photo of him. Half smile on his face, reaching to turn his ball cap around forward with his left hand and carrying his 7D Canon camera with the long lens in the right, cargo pants pockets surely full of heaven only knows, a white polo shirt that he sewed a Montana patch over the AT&T logo. Hiking shoes. Red rocks canyon in the background. I show everyone that photo.

" This is who you are treating. This is who you are dealing with. This is jim"

Sometimes, I have to look at the photo myself, to remind me. It's just been a week and a half. It's early in the recovery. He is in there. Healing. Tired but fighting. And, I tell him about all the people in his corner cheering and praying for him, and that is Superman cape is hanging in the closet, clean and ready to go, whenever he is.