"Something Better" (with thanks to Mary Oliver)

Matt checked in a while ago to report a "very good day." He said that when he arrived at the hospital Beth was already sitting up and had a good breakfast. He had been advocating to get them to remove the soft cast on her left arm--from palm to shoulder--because she had developed an angry rash underneath it and since the surgery is done, it seemed superfluous. They took it off today and Beth was much relieved. And then... drum roll... wait for it: Beth walked about 20 feet down the hall to the center of the ICU and back to her room. I can't even imagine the strength, will power, motivation, determination, rising above, and pure cojones that took. It just seems that that kind of attitude and grit is going to contribute hugely to her recovery. Matt said he also planned to get her outside for a few minutes of sunshine in the afternoon. We all know how much it means to Beth to be outside in nature; if it can't be the Sangre de Cristo mountains, the Pawnee national grasslands, a pristine lake discovered on a day-long hike in Montana... then let it be the hospital parking lot with the roar of Colfax nearby--amazing how everything gets redefined and reassigned in these circumstances, isn't it? The last piece of good news was that they planned to move her to another room on the same floor late today to reduce the amount of nighttime disturbance. The ICU is super noisy, with people constantly coming into your room, various machines beeping, endless conversation among caregivers, and a general sense of being "on" all the time. I don't know if that means she is out of the ICU (fingers and toes crossed) or if she's just in a slightly different location, but let's hope it bodes a night of sweet dreams for Beth, and that she sleeps "as never before"--at least in the last week.

Sleeping in the Forest 

by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.