Yesterday was the first time I saw him on his feet. Watched him tool down the hall from his room and back and was impressed. That's when he blew past me, Jim huffing and puffing behind him, and headed down the other hall towards the elevators. I was sure he was trying to make a break for it, or at least for the Cafeteria. After he got settled back in his bed, I asked him if that was what he was doing. "Why? Do you think I could have made it?" This was about 50 hours post op. I was shocked to find him still in his room this morning.
Today, after combing Amarillo for a handheld electronic Solitaire game that does not exist outside of Amazon, I brought him a deck of large print playing cards. We played 5 games of Gin, he won four. And he cut for high card and won three hard candies (two Werther's and a Jolly Rancher) from one of his doctors. I'm betting there will be legends of high stakes Strip Poker with the night crew by the time he's discharged. But with all of this, still no poop, still nothing by mouth. It's a really weird request, but please pray for Poppy poop. It's the last hurdle he has to clear.