Yesterday I learned that just because you are medically stable doesn't mean you can't have bad days, or nights. Bill came home because he is medically stable, hallelujah, but he wasn't his usual articulate self. I have in a way relied on him to understand what he needs medically -- he's a nurse, right? -- but when his illness or lack of sleep or pain medications cause him to be confused, I don't know what he needs. It's like dealing with a baby, who can't tell you what's wrong. I called doctors twice, the hospital once, and got some information, but it still came down to, as one doctor said, trusting my instinct. My instinct wasn't as confused as Bill's, but it was certainly anxious.
The light is here. All is not well, but it is better with my soul, and both of us have slept healing sleep. I cannot wait to get to the psalms of thanksgiving.
Blessed be the Lord, who has heard the sound of my pleading
The Lord is my strength and my shield, in whom my heart trusted and found help. (Psalm 28:8-9)
(The image is of John of the Cross, the mystic who wrote about the dark night of the soul.)