Tuesday, 3 PM, Stony Brook Medical Center

An hour ago, Olivia opened her eyes, and nodded.

Struggling against the nurses holding her down, against the breathing tube, against the sedatives to keep her from pulling the breathing tube out of her throat, against the IVs, against the wrist and ankle restraints, against the heart monitors, against (especially) the additional tube going down her throat for the every-two-hours suctioning of her lungs, she rose up and somehow ripped the breathing tube connection off.  The ICU nurse yelled out "Whoa, hey, give us some help in here!" and said to Olivia "Hey, hey, hey, do you see your Mom and Dad?"   Olivia slowed her Laocoon-like wrestling and half opened her eyes.  She scanned the room, the nurses, the monitors.  She looked at her Mom, and then she looked at me, and then ... she nodded.  Then the short-term paralytic they gave her began to kick in, and she sank back.

It sounds kind of horrible, doesn't it?  But it was sweet to see. Since her near-drowning at Quogue on Sunday afternoon, she has squeezed her Mom's hand a couple of times, and has turned her head in the direction of a voice once or twice.  But, unconscious, this is the first sign she's given that she can recognize anyone, or anything.

This morning, Peter set her up with John Lennon's "Double Fantasy" on the CD player the Monti's brought.  And now Erin is reading her Jane Eyre.

More later, best not to call the room if you could, we're sort of overloaded but know you are thinking of us.

Love to all  ---  Christopher

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