Moving Day

Dad is just surprising everyone. Either that or the ICU is running out of space. At this very moment he is being moved to a regular room on the surgery recovery floor.

The neurologist-on-call stopped by this morning to check on Dad's progress. He began by asking a few simple questions such as "where are you?" and "do you know your name?" We aren't entirely sure if the drugs are still in high effect or if Dad is just being Dad but apparently his new name is "john jacob jingleheimer schmidt" or something to that effect.

Did I mention that Dad faked a small seizure yesterday afternoon before surgery just because he thought it might be amusing? I think we should have had this man's brain checked out years ago.

And, he still wants his chili dog.

Mom said that he was able to play a little air-piano this morning which is hopeful. We were concerned he might lose this which would be devastating for Dad but if his air-piano is any indication, he should be just fine.

We have been so blessed by all the visitors and email and phone calls. My Dad is a man who is loved. We also have seen how God is using this experience to reveal His glory. Everyone will not understand how a man faced with death can still experience joy. They will ask how we, as his family, do not weep in sorrow.

We do weep and we shall weep, but our hope is in God and we know that David Carson is a stranger in a strange land and his home and his rest is yet to come.

My sister reminded me earlier this week of a moment from "The Silver Chair" by C.S. Lewis.


Puddleglum: Suppose... suppose we have only dreamed and made up these things like sun, sky, stars, and moon, and Aslan himself. In that case, it seems to me that the made-up things are a good deal better than the real ones. And if this black pits of a kingdom is the best you can make, then it's a poor world. And we four can make a dream world to lick your real one hollow. As for me, I shall live like a Narnian even if there isn't any Narnia.