John has spoken, and is quoted above. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for his children, John does not have a Facebook page. But he has advised that I may update his faithful readers with what's happening here at Baptist South.
(I would like to reiterate that we are not Baptist. In fact, I have only been inside a Baptist church just once and it was for a wedding. As the minister was reciting the vows and he announced that the woman was turned over to her husband's ownership from that of her father, a hand comes flying out from down the aisle to band across my waist, similar to how your mother always did in the car when she had to slam on the brakes. It was in fact my mother, reaching out to restrain me from standing up to object to the bald-faced misogyny of the church. And yes, I was already in motion. She caught me just in time. And to add insult to injury, the reception was dry. There was some sherbet punch nonsense. But, I did enjoy the Swedish meatballs. They would have been better with some Pinot Grigio, though.)
We are beginning our 7th full day (Even God rested on the 7th day!) in the hospital. They have finally located the source of the infection and have found the world's most expensive antibiotics to defeat it. Thankfully my college education is paid for, or I'd have still been working part-time at Chick-Fil-A to pay it off. (They make a mean chicken sandwich, so we're gonna not talk about their social policies. And also, I've never worked in food service. Y'all can chuckle quietly to yourselves while imagining me telling customers to "Have a Blessed Day!")
Word on the street is that John is getting out tomorrow. But, despite being optimistic, we'll believe it when we see it. We were attempting to reconstruct our time here (I'm on my 2nd bottle of wine (OK, OK, 3rd...) and 2nd six pack of Diet Coke since arriving on Thursday. Those are the markers I use to tell time.)
The highlight of our stay here has been the move from 514 to 513, skillfully planned and executed by Trink with a precision and dexterity I have not seen outside of a crowded Outback bar at Happy Hour while angling for a table at which to enjoy one's two for one drink specials. But let me tell you, if you ever end up in Baptist South, make sure you end up in 513. This room is MUCH nicer and infinitely more spacious. If I danced, which the Baptists also frown on, I'd have enough spare space in this room for a jig.
Thanks to all our readers, and we hope this post, while a little low on actual medical information, is high on religious education and alcohol reverence.
Trink's birthday is tomorrow and we'd include a photo of her, but she's still working on her selfie skill with her iPhone. $300 phone and she is still learning it. Yesterday I taught her that a double space autocorrects to a period and how to zoom in while taking a picture. This is my gift to her. That and a Southern Caramel cake I made last night that will send you into sugar shock, but you'll go with a smile on your face. Luckily my father does not have diabetes or I would have had some explaining to do to the hospital staff...
PS: My mother has watched me type this and laugh all the while. So you can rest assured she did not vet it before I posted and probably disapproves of 90% of the content.
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