saucy_dryad

*smooooooooches f-list*

Thank you for your birthday wishes, my lovelies. I intend to reply to each and every one, but just in case I go seven kinds of scatterbrained, know that you have made my day.

I don't know that I’ve said this of late, but I love you. All of you, with a thousand different kinds of love. Some of you are family, some are friends, some are mere acquaintances. One is my sister. Several are sisters of my heart. One is my brother, and with others I share an exceptional brotherhood. One is my dearest darling. All of you are dear.

Maybe we know each other by faire name better than the names we were given. Maybe you held me when I wept, inconsolable and utterly certain the world would never be the same (and it wasn't, but even so, it was full of wonders). Maybe you made me laugh so hard I peed a little. Maybe you left a random comment. Maybe you made me feel geeky really is the new sexy. Maybe you gave me hugs or *hugs*. Maybe you cheered me up. Maybe we’ve crossed swords, and maybe we’ve giggled our way through the choreography. Maybe you made me cranky. Maybe you shared a book. A song. A story.

Whatever our connection, I’m thankful for you. I’m glad you’re in this world. And yes... smushy gooshy maudlin girl that I am, I love you.




Or at the very least, I like you a whole heck of a lot. :)

Those on my f-list have no idea of the power they wield!

We went to the hospital today, ready to be essentially holding vigil, only to find Dad off the BiPAP and on a regular oxygen mask. He couldn't talk all that clearly, but he could talk. Better still, he was coughing; his lungs are actually sort of working. And his ox-sat was good, even when he pushed the mask aside to clear away the results of his coughing. He's cranky and impatient again. They sat him up today... and he even did some of the work. They may be able to give him real food tomorrow.

I do not dare allow myself to get too hopeful. I can't, not after a day like yesterday, when even the nurse told me that they'd keep him where he was, but would be ready to move him to a private room so that we could have uninterrupted time with him, and the doctor's best prognosis was, "We'll just have to wait and see." But then today, his respiratory therapist threw her hands in the air and said, "Dude. I have no idea what happened, but let's go with it," only in far more professional terms.

My brother arrives tomorrow. I am praying with all my might that Dad has another day like today. I know this could all change in a moment, I know that without warning he could slip back. But it is no small thing that my dad, whom most of you have never met, has your blessings and prayers and love and warmth. You are mighty, and I am so grateful to you all.