Bill is in the hospital now--already not having fun

The internet connection is down more than up at this hotel across from the Duke Medical Center, else I would have written more here, and sooner. Even this post may not show up, but in case it works, here's the latest:

(THANK YOU for caring! That's the most important thing to say!)

Bill and I and Sarah spent all day today going from clinic to clinic, preparing for the surgery, giving blood, getting pre-operative information, filling out forms, signing consents. By mid-afternoon, we were all so tired, but Bill's day was just getting started.

The poor cowboy was checked into a room on the 6th floor for one night only to prepare for surgery. And the term "prepare for surgery" is a polished and shiny euphemism for a series of experiences that you don't want to think about or even know about. He said, "Somewhere, some lucky guy is having a heart attack."

Tomorrow, his surgery is scheduled for 7:30 am, and they reminded us today that it could last ten hours, not just eight. Which we knew, but wish we didn't.

Then he will be unconscious until Monday! I can see him for short times in intensive care over the weekend, but only if I tell them the password. Isn't that funny? If I forget the password, they won't let me in or tell me how he is doing! The password is goldenrod. No, wait. It's goldfish. No, shoot. It's.....oh, NO! I FORGOT IT!

(((Juss kiddin)))) Hint: It's one of the words in the title of the book he wrote. So now if I forget, I'm calling you, and you tell me the password, okay?

When I said goodbye to him, neither of us were sure we would get to speak again before the surgery. So Sarah left us alone for a minute and we decided that we should figure out what to say to each other in case it would be the last time we ever saw each other. Well, that got me crying my eyes out, and I was grabbing these dry paper towels off the wall and sopping up a thousand tears and blowing my nose and not looking very fetching, I'm sure, but despite all that, we figured out what to say, and if you know what love is, imagine looking into the eyes of the love of your life and thinking what would you say if it were to be the last thing you ever said to each other?

Of course the minute I got back to the hotel, I missed him too much, so I called him and said that phone calls don't count as "last things we ever say" so it didn't undo our dramatic Last Words moment if we just talked for one second by phone. And besides, I feel sure that will NOT be the last time we see each other!

So in the morning, Sarah and I walk over there at 6:45 and hope to see him once more. My brother then arrives, and we sit there and wait.

I assume the internet will work well in the hospital, so I will post every single time I get any information.

Neither of us can even remotely convey to you the depth of gratitude that we feel, and the aura of love and comfort that we are feeling because of you and your love for us. I only pray that your kindnesses to us come back to you so vastly multiplied that you will not have room to contain them.

Love and thanks.

God bless Bill.