Black days and a golden morning

The days after Markus's entry into hospital were black indeed. His temperature wouldn't go down, and his breathing became worse and worse.On the Wednesday follwing his admittance I had a call to come to the hospital as his breathing was so bad - they had tried to use bronchoscopy to clear his lungs, but it hadn't worked. Of course he didn't want them to call me, because he couldn't believe the situation was so bad. His sister and I sat with him all day, and his breathing became a little better. We talked and joked, and he listened and smiled sometimes, till he fell asleep under the effects of all the medication. He got a morphine pump to ease the pain and to try and relax him, because the feeling of not being able to breathe causes anxiety and spasms, which make the situation worse. There were (and are) iantibiotic drips, drips for his breathing, drips for nausea and drips to calm him so he can breathe better.This difficulty went on all week, and I spent most of the time at the hospital. The physiotherapist showed me some movements I could make to help him breathe and cough - pressing on the stomach so the organs move up and provide more support to the diaphragm, so he could cough better, or holding his ribs and pressing down when he breathed out so he could get more air (and gunge) out of his lungs and then more aiir in. The nurses were absolutely great, and spent lots of time attending to him, and so did doctors, one woman doctor in particular.There was really the feeling they were pulling out all the stops to help him be comfortable at least. Twice, on really bad nights (like last night) one of the nurses was an absolute angel and massaged his back with camphor - a real massage - and his feet and bottom too (he's so thin they are afraid of bed sores). You should have seen the big smile on his face! I was so relieved he felt a bit better I had to disappear onto the balcony for a bit. However, the doctors were not very optimistic - quite the opposite. On Sunday, the nice one told me she hadn't expected him to survive the week. She also suggested to us we should think of a hospice, and that she didn't think I could cope with caring for Markus at home. Markus sat bolt upright in bed, and glared at her, teeth set. He had a bit of lunch ( a very little bit). He got up and went to the balcony (and almost passed out on the way bach from weakness and lack of air). He started eating breakfast the next day. But still the breathing problems went on. Then they suggested he should drink less water to try and dry his lungs out. This morning the phone rang at 6.45, startling me out of my dreams. I was at the telephone in a trice, thinking unpleasant thoughts and scattering the cats. It was Markus. His voice was far stronger than it has been for some weeks. He wanted me to bring some papers to the hospital for him. And when I went, he was up, he could speak to me in short sentences - and he was sitting on the balcony in the sunlight, chatting and smoking. The doctor told us that when he came in, his blood values showing infection were 40 times higher than they should have been. And today they were only 4 times higher. They are going to see about him coming home next week. Who knows what next week will bring, but this morning was a golden morning indeed.