Pride, prejudice and zomb-Ben.

I brought Ben his phone today, let him make a couple of quick calls and send a couple emails off and then he passed it back. It hurts his eyes, he said. 

You're probably just allergic to work now, I pointed out and he laughed. 

He asked for his favourite guitar but we vetoed that, as not only is it not appropriate in a quiet hospital wing, private room or not, but he can look forward to playing when he gets home. 

He agreed. He's been very agreeable. He goes with whatever we say, whatever is decided and he just motors through milestones and progress markers and keeps stable and steady and he sleeps a fair bit and while he's not high now from pain meds he was a few days ago and I worry about what that means for his recovery but he said we'll take it one step at a time and I laughed because the irony and he didn't but he smiled.

We're all just thrilled that his brain is no longer leaking out of his nose. 

***

Masks are now my new all-time favourite accessory (don't worry, I've been wearing them for months), as I have one of those faces that not only can't make a poker face but I perpetually look as if I'm about to burst into tears when I'm not actively smiling. I always said my superpowers, if I could have them would be hiding my true feelings instead of broadcasting them with my eyes, and writing my name with pee in the snow, but that's not really relevant right here, it's just something I would like to be able to do. If I can refrain from raising my eyebrows I look completely normal and like I believe what you're telling me.

***

 Caleb has sought redemption quietly. He's hung back. He's facilitated the contractors coming in and doing a general sizing up and adding all sorts of accessibility to the house that brings a physical ease where before the house was accessible only in terms of hearing. The lights flicker when the doorbell rings or the gate intercom buzzes, plus there is a small light attached to the inside of each door which lights up really bright if you knock on the outside. Our smoke alarms are these super piercing rave/strobe lights and I have a flashing-light alarm clock that wakes me up. They lowered the ceiling heights on the main floor to nine feet from vaulted to help with the echoing and there are lots of other tiny touches like water alarms in case water is left on from a tap and I don't hear it and we have hard wood on all floors downstairs so that I can hear you coming.

They're putting in an elevator from the studio to the main level. As I said the other day we're adding railings and grab bars wherever we can. They've opted to put in higher toilets because it's easier to sit on them when you're tall and the tall people in this house outnumber the short (uh, me. Even Ruth is tall and willowy). They're adding non-slip tiles in the kitchen, foyer, garage and bathrooms, the front steps are being retrofitted to be nonslip. We're just going to bubblewrap everything we never did before, ironic again because when we moved in with a nine year old and an eleven year old we didn't have this much safety in mind, choosing instead to teach the kids to watch out for hazards than to assume they would be safe. 

Ben will not need most of these additions but they're never a bad thing, and with Emmett doing the work I know it will blend in seamlessly with the design of the house. And I made sure it's going to cost Caleb a blooming fortune. He may not even be living here once Ben comes home, though he has played advocate to himself and has pointed out that if Lochlan had hauled off and punched someone who then suffered a TBI I would not make him leave. 

He's not wrong but they really have to stop using their fists to try and fix their bruised egos (and brains).

Love is the most selfish of all the passions.

 It's a beautiful day. I took a deep breath and it didn't hurt. The sun is shining, but it didn't burn. Our tomatoes are ripening but not splitting. I brought one in for Ben, salt shaker wrapped in a napkin in my purse because he likes them with a little salt and he said it was the best thing he's ever eaten. Then he winked at me and laughed gently. He can't laugh too hard or his head hurts. 

He's in a private room and let me tell you being able to have a good long conversation with him and not being told that he needs to sleep or I need to leave so they can change tubes and bags and test him and feed him and listen to the noises of the machines while I wonder exactly how hard his brain hit the inside of his skull and what the fallout from this might mean for the future of the biggest, strongest man I know.

The doctors have gone from cautious to practically packing his bags for him.

(Just kidding. He has no bags. Only the clothes he came in wearing. No phone. No watch. No nothing. Not even his reading glasses.)

And Lochlan is with me today so we can spend time with Ben together. Three musketeers.

Futures.

 I slept for nine hours straight and then the phone rang but it was Schuyler and his soothing voice telling me Ben is doing great and everything is fine, so don't rush, take some time to be at home and rest a little more. I'm more glad that I was at the hospital for the first more frightening days so that I didn't have to wait for the boys to tell me news in their roundabout, slowed-down way. That's too hard. This works better. Either way, our cautious but hopeful approach is working and today instead of church Sam is going to go in with Matt to pray with Ben. Ben has been asking for Sam.

I called Ben's old manager to put him in the loop and ask him to try to reach out to some of the people Ben was working with. Not like I know how to get a hold of them. He said not to worry about a thing. Ben's projects will be heavily delayed or delivered in fragments and they'll have to make do though he is not a procrastinator when it comes to work and is probably ready to send everything out if he hadn't already. 

I saw Caleb and I would not stop long enough to see him dissolve into his own sorrow nor listen to his lament, I only asked him to contact Emmett (NOT RANSOM) and see about arranging to put in some better accessibility points on the property, especially around the main house. We need stair railings indoors, rails in the bathroom, a second ladder and rails at the other end of the pool and I'm putting a auxiliary driveway that comes around and isn't such a bottleneck way on the other side where our property hooks around (surprise, the waterfront is all mine), about forty feet past where Batman's property ends, in order to facilitate both deliveries and emergencies. 

Caleb nodded, absolutely hobbled by my refusal to hear his confession. 

He's not a stupid man, though.

Maybe we won't need any of that stuff but if we do, it will be there. 

When can I see him?

When he asks for you.

 Ben's improvements are coming by the hour now and they say if it continues he'll be out of ICU perhaps early next week. They're so cautious but optimistic, it makes me crazy but at the same time I crave more and more, hanging off every word. 

I'm home for the night. Daniel and Schuyler are trading off tonight. I need to not be there right this second. I got physically sick this morning and Lochlan came back to collect me, sending me out to the truck while he took a few minutes to talk to Ben. Ben is mostly drifting between commands, playing trained seal, hitting his tests with an ease he didn't have even two days ago so I'm excited. 

Still sick though, not too sure why but I've also been sitting in a hard chair in the cold wearing a mask for a week in a terrible environment for getting sick, eating like crap, sleeping five minutes every three or four hours and I need a break, though my argument this week is that Ben doesn't get a break. 

But I am more at ease now with being able to leave him for a little bit, and a little more heartened that he might be okay, or at least better in short order and when I go back I'll be slept and fresh and ready to take on next week.

I'm home for a moment to have a hot shower and wolf down some dinner and then I'm going back to the hospital. Ben has stabilized finally. The nurses said he is full of surprises and doing really well. He's had three surgeries, two frightening setbacks and a lot of really really good care over the past six days (it happened Sunday morning) and God bless the staff, they've been looking after me too.They're already talking about all the things he's going to do when he comes home but I can see on their faces that they say that as a thing to keep our spirits up. Half the time Ben is sleeping and not listening anyway. The other half I am too despondent to pretend that I am cheered from their effort but I get it. It's part of the job. 

May not be posting a lot but people wanted to know that he's alive. It's kind of all I want to know too. They said it's too soon to tell the future but I just need to know he's in it. That's all I care about right now.

Not going to ask for prayers, I'm just going to take them. Thank you in advance.

Sitting in an ice cold waiting room right now. Caleb and Ben had a shoving match by the pool, Ben was off-balance and when Caleb suckerpunched him Ben fell and cracked his head on the concrete and didn't respond didn't get up for so long I went completely numb and didn't even scream. I froze. I probably wasted so much time but Caleb did not and called 911 the second he could get to his phone.

Ben has not woken up yet. 

Update: he's awake.

I'll find a way home.

Watching my life on a detuned TV,

The pictures I see are just shapes on a screen,

Come shake me out of my slow motion dream

https://lyricstranslate.com

Watching my life on a detuned TV,

The pictures I see are just shapes on a screen,

Come shake me out of my slow motion dream

https://lyricstranslate.com

Watching my life on a detuned TV,

The pictures I see are just shapes on a screen,

Come shake me out of my slow motion dream

Ha. I broke my heart learning the opening notes for Wish I Was Here. Falling for a song so hard I break bones and my own heart on the way down is truly the way I want to die. 

Fuck off, Bridge. Sam isn't playing this morning and I am stubborn, a pile of dust and ragged pieces of myself on the floor. The curtains are thrown wide to highlight the dust motes floating in the morning sun. We're supposed to have thunderstorms later today, first for God to smite me with and second for my bones to fuse back together in the light. Then and only then will I be able to move again. 

Sam reaches down into the dust, picks up a pinch between his fingers and draws the sign of the cross on my forehead.

He doesn't have room for me, Sam. That's why I live here in the dark. 

It isn't dark right now, is it?

Sure it is. You just need to look behind my eyes. 

What will it take, Bridget?

If I knew I would buy it. 

Faith doesn't come for sale. 

None of the virtues do, Sam. Or we would have some. 

You're too hard on yourself. He whispers it. He makes me sad. He came over to see if I wanted to tag along to exceedingly-hot church (NO) and then he said I didn't actually have a choice. He's concerned because yesterday I had Saturday kayak with Matt and maybe made some casual statements that scared the fuck out of Matt because he knows me very well but apparently not enough.

I'm fine. As always. Some days are harder than others. Most of them follow tough nights.

Came back from the void (with the void still in me).

 You can't just hand me a new album and a good pair of headphones and leave me to drift, floating on a bed suspended by heavy ropes for fifty four minutes (which stretched into a hundred and eight so I could listen to it again) and blow me away with an easy breath for the profundity some men can reach with a piano and a pen. 

I am so readily in love with those men. Sort of like men who speak Gaelic fluently. This is my kryptonite, it's my biggest flaw because those are the men who navigate their own charms, wielding a power immeasurable, a stunning display of emotional peacock feathers by which we are levelled flat. 

Hello, Mick Moss. Welcome to the inside of my brain.

He's what I wished Pearl Jam would have been but isn't. Like a hotter, deeper version. Tighter instruments, but he's just...let the fuck go with his words, something I wish more people would do. That's something I require, it's a dealbreaker, in fact. If you want to talk to me you have to drop your walls. You have to tell me of your deepest darkest thoughts, fears and wants. You have to go one step further, opening yourself, being vulnerable, being unabashed, shameless and pure. I don't care if it makes you look bad. I don't care if you're embarrassed, just give me what I crave. 

 Like this. This is fucking awesome. Antimatter's Black Market Enlightenment is now safely ensconced in my top ten Most Perfect Albums of all time. 

(If you want to check him out listen to Wish I was Here. GodDAMN.)

(Happy Saturday. Our virus cases here in the southern half of the province have tripled every day over the past week and I'm never leaving the house again but as long as I have some amazing music and my deepest boys around I'm good for the rest of my life, thanks. Deliver Vietnamese food and I'll not complain with a single word. August laughs when I tell him this. I was so drunk when I explained exactly how I work, to his amused face as he nodded. I know all this, he reminded me, but I told him again anyway.)

Judas summer.

Henry and Lochlan were outside until around midnight last night, as Henry continues to learn to handle fire. It looks cool, he says. He's enjoying the process of learning and trying and getting it, finally after dozens of attempts. Then it's on to the next level, as practice is everything. Henry's not a perfectionist and doesn't worry if he can't do something, but he is also exceedingly quiet and contemplative. He feels things twice as deep as your average human, which is a hindrance and a help. Henry is exactly like Jake but with my stubbornness and pragmatism, and so Lochlan has no trouble at all crafting a plan to teach him in a way that will work both for Lochlan's capacity for risk and patience and for Henry's confidence in himself and desire to expand his decidedly too-safe horizons.

As this week wraps up we've really settled into a new sort of dynamic here on the point. It's all good, all positive, all healthy which is the most you can ask for, right Joel? Joel came by last evening but we were busy hanging out with the kids and didn't want to break away to go and talk. I don't want to talk to him right now anyway. He is not for the good times. He is for the hard times (or as I call them, the heart times). He is for emergencies. He is just a textbook we can flip open if we need a reference but otherwise he can wait. 

Sometimes I just stand and watch and I can't believe the way things turned out. Jacob, you baptized your own son and you didn't know he was yours. And now he's learning to throw fireballs into the night because of Lochlan's encouragement, and because mom was so disappointed in the lack of meteor showers, so let's make one for her and she can enjoy a personalized experience and God bless them both it was the greatest round of shooting stars I think I've ever seen and not only does Lochlan not see Jake in Henry (he lies but he insists: Only you, Peanut. Only you) he doesn't even hesitate to be his father. Never has, never will and I love him for that, even when Jake was still alive and had no idea, Lochlan would talk about his kids which drove them all batshit. This is the life we wanted, only the camper's a tad bigger than we expected but the kids are too. Pinch me, I'm dreaming. 

No, you know the rules. Get away from me and just leave me like this. Please.

We're not talking about the invisible meteors today.

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