There seems to be no end to the innovative things that can be done in a single hospital room.
Talitha explored the possibilities of establishing a new room within the room UNDER the crib but that was too stressful for her mom so that expedition was short lived.
The big thing today was sitting on the window sill. Tali sat there for the longest time watching birds, cars, and people from her 4th floor perch. Such enthusiasm as the world continues to unfold before her.
The closet doors in the room are covered with white-board material and Talitha spent a good while in front of those doors discovering how fun it is to color on the slick surface.
A while back, Tali started imitating the techs that come in and take her vitals and then write their findings with a pen on paper. She likes to ask for a pen and paper whenever a tech or doctor comes in the room which gets a few of them chuckling now and then.
Talitha insists we hold her hands so she can walk around the room frequently throughout the day. She hasn't regained her sense of balance yet and is very shaky and nervous with the walking thing. I think she remembers being able to walk and wants to get there again.
I'm glad she is interested in walking practice and initiates it so we don't have to make it a big deal.
At work, one of my friends kind of caught me off guard with an unusual question. He asked, "If you hadn't discovered the tumor, would Talitha still be alive?"
The sobering answer is "no".
The question didn't bother me, though it did get me to reflect for a few moments.
The reality that Talitha is still with us is no small miracle. And without Tali's intuitive mother, we wouldn't have ever asked my doctor brother the questions that led to specific inquiries at the Utah Valley Health Clinic that resulted in a tell-all MRI the next day on December 23.
How grateful we are for the last (nearly) six months with her that--but for the grace of God--we wouldn't have had.