Eagle,
I check this post often...don't reply frequently...don't know what to say...you and Gary and your family are in my heart.

Gimster, what a sweet thing to do. You put so much time and effort in all your posts. Thank you for that.

Thank you for the updates Eagle. So glad his vitals are back to where they should be. The strength you emit is inspiring to me. I'm still praying for a complete recovery!

gimster, what a thoughtful post. Thank you.

Eagle, may you feel God's presence throughout the long hours spent by Gary's bedside. Oh how I wish I could meet you in the coffee shop to pray with you. Consider it done.

thats two fottball or ermm soccer teams garies gott on his side and a few on the bench by gimsters reackining , cool

WOW! An amazing day.

Let me start by saying that this started out as one of my lowest days in the entire journey. For the first time, I actually felt like it might be time to give up. But I remembered the red shirt that Gary often wore to his chemo sessions: Courage is being afraid, but going anyway. So I gathered up my drooping spirit, my sagging courage and kept repeating all that positive talk to myself and went to the hospital.

Well, in the ICU, we measure progress in baby steps - or in Gary's case, in the blink of an eye. There has been little or no response since Monday night. But today, there was plenty of life in behind those eyes. When the EEG technician asked Gary to close his eyes for 10 seconds, he did it - it was obviously hard work for him, but he did it. (He hasn't been able to close his eyes since Monday night) Then a little while later she asked him to do it again for 5 seconds. It took awhile for him to respond, but he did. The third time she asked him, the response was immediate and deliberate. Not only was he responding on command, he was actively letting us know that he was IN THERE, awake, alert and working hard to find his way out. I cried tears of joy. I danced around the room (I was only allowed to stay in if I could stay unobtrusive, but even the tech laughed and celebrated with me). From then on (that was around noon), Gary's eyes rarely left our faces. We talked, he was obviously listening. We didn't ask him to do much, because it was a very busy day for him and we felt we needed to let him rest in between all these visits and procedures. But he was clearly there. And clearly working on finding his way out of there.

So Hallelujah! The doctors cautioned us that this will be a VERY long road back, with still more roller coastering to go, but we continue to rejoice in these small, but significant-to-us steps forward.

His birthday is tomorrow. So if you think about it, raise a toast (orange juice, coffee or tea or whatever) and an hallelujah to an amazing miracle that your prayers and care are helping to bring about!

Dotsie,
More than ever before, I felt the power of people praying for me today. I knew it. I could feel peace and power flowing into my despair, melting it into joy - and I KNEW it was because people were "out there" praying for me today.

Thank you.

exilent eagle i exited just reading your post.....toasting it will be, birthdays, celibrasion of life, the whole lot.

I will definitly raise a toast to Gary tomorrow. And I am raising one to you as soon as I finish this post.

You, wonderful Eagle, are one of the strongest women I have ever met - virtually or in person.

On behalf of your miracle team, you are more than welcome.

Amen! And more. We're praying AND toasting! Come in when you can and give us an update, but in the meantime, know that we're covering you all with love.