... and from Jimmy

Dear friends of die Tomma:

Herr Doktor und Hande Holderer Jimmy von Krankenshortz here with my Wednesday report.

I'm filling in for Tomma to add to this account later as she sees fit once she finishes the Journey processes that she's doing this morning and early afternoon with dear friends Laurie and Margaret.

Yesterday was as she reported, a bit better pain/discomfort-wise for her. Still a bit yellowish, temp up to 101 a couple times, but less overall pain/discomfort, so that was good.

Mid afternoon, Roger (aka Roger The Jester), friend and husband of Sarah, and a professional entertainer who does magic and fun shows for people all over, including Antigua now, came by the hospital fresh (i.e. tired) from Antigua in fact to bring Tomma a lovingly transported container of Guava pulp that he'd mashed up himself, then proceeded to show her on his laptop a slide show of images from his 7 weeks down there with Sarah...including a picture of the very guavas he'd bought to process for Tomma, and the island natives he bought them from.

Then he whipped out an ancient Hohner Premiosa (?), a small hand accordian/organ/squeeze box thingy, small and very cute, and proceeded to play an old American folk song he'd taught himself. I commented when he was done that it was the tune Love Me Tender that Elvis Presley made into a huge hit in 1958 I think, I remember because I was a wee and pimply tyke at the time (13). Roger hadn't known that! He knew it as a pre-Elvis American folksong.

What a guy. He stayed and visited, jovial, present, cheerful and of course so completely delightful to Tomma, it was great to see her laugh and smile and see her beautiful soulful eyes light up the way we're all used to seeing.

She's in as good a spirits as you could hope for given the present challenges. Still a bit feverish off and on yesterday, but much better than the day before.

I was particularly gratified by the caring presence of the nurse Marilyn that Tomma wrote about earlier. She's a very bright, energetic, fast-talking, high-energy woman who either cultivated, or has by nature, that remarkable gift of listening intently and without interruption. Once Marilyn had heard Tomma fully express her misgivings and concerns about whether to go with Dr. Morrisey (something T and I had talked about a lot but I knew she needed to feel the medical "establishment" heard her as well), I made a point to thank Marilyn for being such a superb listener.

You can probably imagine what a relief that was for Tomma (me too) ...hospitals tend to feel like a huge cruise ship with something always going on. Sometimes like the Poseidon Adventure, mostly just big, complex and unstoppable. Thousands of passengers sailing through a turbulent ocean, and the staff has it's medical equivalent of social activities to organize, schedules to rush to keep, meals to prepare, storms to weather, and there can be a feeling of being rushed and lost in a sea of often incomprehensible, or sometimes insufficiently communicated, reasons for doing things.

So to be so fully heard was a huge relief, and praiseworthy in the extreme.

After that, we talked for awhile. Tomma thought for awhile. Then she said with a profound clarity and certainty I don't see that often, "Okay. It's time to do this. I'm going to have the surgery Thursday." And that was that. My brave sweetheart.

I expect you would all be proud of the way she's coming through this challenging time of uncertainty, fear, confusion, lack at times of response or information, and just the difficult reality of being away from hearth (literally, the fireplace wood stove she is devoted to keeping at a roaring high all day and half the night!) and home. She's not a freakout kind of chick, know what I mean? Of course you do. She's our wonderful level-headed, lovingTomma.

In fairness, even with the occasional confusions or slow responses, this is a good hospital. The staff is caring and responsive, and lots of good people look in on her and look after her. When I go home, I don't worry that she'll have an emergency and not be in good hands. So it's about as good I think as it could be that way.

Best guess is she'll come home Sunday. Perhaps with a pair of cysts riding shotgun in a cooler, perhaps not: she wants to bring them home and, as she's expressed to me, spend some time learning from them what it is they want to say about why they came into her life, or something like that. Whether the hospital will allow that is yet to be determined, but our Tomma has a unique approach to all life, an inclusive one that strives to accept all aspects of it, so while this may seem a bit strange to some of us, it's entirely consistent with who she is. And kind of cool in a slightly macabre way, at least to an old California skysurfer like me who can handle the sight of his own blood, but not anybody elses, and who remains,

your faithful servant,

Herr Dr. Jimmy von Krankenshortz