I've started reading. It passes the time while I sit virtually alone at the hospital.
Andrew is sleeping a lot these days. I'm not really sure how much time he spends awake and coherent during the day. I'm sure it's not more than a couple hours or so.
Today is no different. I sit by his bed with my hand on his leg. It's about 7:30 p.m. I have worked all day. When I got to the hospital one of his family members was there doing the same thing-- reading. They understood my need for some sort of normalcy and would leave when I arrived. It was our time now. Our time that he spent sleeping and I spent reading.
This time, he woke up and looked somewhat confused.
"Good morning, sunshine," I joked with him. Perhaps not the best choice of words on my part.
He stirs a bit, grimaces in pain, and looks at me, "What time is it?" he mumbles.
"Almost 7:30," I answer. I see confusion on his face and then he sleepily asks, "Aren't you going to work today?" I smile. "I already did. It's 7:30 p.m. I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."
I think I see a hint of color in his face as he panics and sits up. His IV cords jolt with his sudden movement. His eyes scan the room quickly as he asks, "You let me sleep all day!?"
My heart melts. I know he hates sleeping late. He hates feeling lazy. I stand up and put down my book. "It's okay... it's okay. You need to sleep. Just lay back down. I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes stop darting about the room and he tentatively lays back down. His breathing slows again, and within seconds, he is again deep in sleep.
Again, I'm virtually alone.
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