Peter Rabbit Goes to Seton

Day 1 after surgery brought even more encouragement.  Paul texted me at 6:30 a.m., saying he was ready for me to come back and had fired the PA who came to see him instead of his surgeon.  Poor PA, I thought, wondering if she was related to Andrew.  Paul was obviously in good spirits and ready for action.

By the time I arrived in the room he was sitting up in the recliner, griping about why he couldn’t go home yet, insulted that a mere PA who “didn’t know squat” had come to check on him, not impressed with breakfast and thoroughly cranky that his physical therapist had not yet arrived.  Clearly he was feeling better.  I don’t recall what I said in reply but he got quite cantankerous with me, so I said, “Look, we both know you are a terrible patient and I’m an even more terrible nurse, so cut that attitude with me or I’ll kick your butt.”  I told him I was going out that door, coming back in again and we’d have a do-over.  Which we did, and the day started off nicely.  There is more than one way to be a loving wife :)

PT, checking vital signs, more PT, taking meds and visits by the nurse, clinician’s assistant, Occupational Therapist (a real cutie), our physician, and visits from friends filled the day.  Paul aced his PT sessions, as we knew he would – he’s a terrible patient but a great student of PT because he has marching orders, something to DO.  He was in fine form for visitors, and by the time another very good friend Meach came by he was in rare form.  They both gave the OT a hard time, tried to court her for Meach’s son, and in general were the life of the party on the 6^th Floor.  A far cry from the agonizing yells of less than 48 hours ago.  Praise God for technology, good surgeons, great friends and hope for recovery!

Before I knew it, it was bedtime and we were both ready.  Our night nurse, Julian, was fantastic, possibly the best combination of a servant-leader heart, compassion, skill and consideration that I’ve seen.  It was Julian that asked if I would like him to order up a cot for me to sleep on.  A cot?  I had not been looking forward to the recliner and I hadn’t even thought of that, what a great idea! 

I made the quick trip home to check on Duke.  By the time I returned my beautiful cot was in the room.  At home I’d had the brilliant idea to bring the Peter Rabbit comforter with me, and now I spread it out on the cot and put on my PJ’s.  I put the words of the story on the inside, the pictures of Peter and friends on the outside, and slept inside it like a snug burrito.  This comforter never fails to bring me some sleep. 

Twenty-seven years ago when my daughter was almost 3 and transitioning from baby bed to a big girl bed I had purchased it.  I’d decorated her room in a Peter Rabbit theme, complete with sheets, bedside lamp, wall decorations and the comforter.  Over the years the comforter became extremely soft, the softest thing you’d ever want to feel around your skin.  When she outgrew her room décor I kept it all, unwilling to part with these things that held such sweet memories.
Later, when the trauma with all its drama enveloped our lives during my children’s teen years, I pulled the Peter Rabbit comforter from its shelf in the hall closet and wrapped it around me, feeling its soft warmth and thinking how strangely comforting it was.  As my kids grew and had children of their own, Peter Rabbit and his friends were used for sleeping on, making a pallet on the floor for a stuffed animal zoo, or a blanket of forts.  On those rare nights when I’ve suffered nightmares, I’ve often reached for the comforter and snuggled under it, Peter and friends seeming to shoo away the bad dreams just the way Mr. McGregor shooed Peter out of his garden.

Now, Peter Rabbit was on a field trip to the hospital, bring comfort and better quality short-sleeps on a cot in Seton room 662.  I closed my eyes, smiled and drifted off for a good 45 min nap.  Only Peter could bring true rest on a hospital cot.   And when I heard Paul’s whisper for the urinal, I was hardly even cranky getting out of the cot because I knew the comforter would be waiting.