An Hour's Rest

Judd has returned from surgery. We've been given every indication that it went well. His IVs have been removed in favor of the much more efficient cathetar. He's pretty groggy, but he managed some basic communication (gestures, a few words). He's sleeping now, for the first time in a while. David and I are sitting here beside him.

He looks quite good considering how rough the last few days must have been on him. His skin is soft and glowing. His eyes are calm.

The quality of care here at University of Utah is clearly very high. The facility is beautiful and well-staffed. (You wouldn't believe this bathroom--Tripp I'm taking pictures to use it as a jumping off point for ours.) There's hardly a sound up here in the mountains, aside from the the drip and Judd's trademark snore. The drip gets annoying, but his snore is a welcome familiarity.

The doctor wants to begin chemotherapy as soon as possible. Of course, though, she needs Judd's understanding and consent before that happens. She's elected to give him an hour's rest before that meeting is set to take place.

Until then,
Frankie