He went through all of the bizarre posturing and behaviors and explained why he had done what he had done. It was great at first, he explained, when he believed he was in control of everything, when he could make our kids appear out of thin air, and when he didn't need medicine because he had actually made up the whole thing about needing a liver transplant. But then it turned hellish when he couldn't get out of his delusion.
Wednesday turned out to be a day of recovery. There was lots of sleeping. Lots of Jay feeling the after-effects of not being careful about his wound and moving much more freely then he probably should have. Lots of the nurses changing his meds BACK from oral suspension to pill form. My awesome friend Molly came by the hospital and we went for coffee and a chat, and mostly managed to solve the ills of the world. Jason came by to make me leave for lunch, but I insisted on staying until rounds were over. During rounds we found that they wanted to keep Jay for at least another night for observation, and then Jason and I went to Taco Mamacita.
And had lunch with Taylor Swift. Sort of.
I wouldn't have even noticed if Jason hadn't pointed her out. I think that a Nashville point of pride is that we mostly leave celebrities alone, so I did. But I swore that if I saw Ben Folds I would be one of those obnoxious people who ask for a picture.
Tharon and Cecil from church came by on Wednesday afternoon while they were in town. And Wednesday night we rested, hoping that we would get to go home on Thursday morning. Oh, and I had a conversation with the psychiatric
nurse about whether I was OK with Jay starting an anti-psychotic drug. She convinced me, and I allowed it grudgingly. And we slept.