THURSDAY AFTERNOON . COL'S ROOM 956 
At this very moment, Colleen is working with an occupational therapist whose helping her learn how to manuever over the coming days and weeks, particularly with respect to her two surgical incisions. Earlier, the physical therapist was here too. 

I succeeded in finding a doctor who immediately gave the go-ahead for Colleen to eat normally again. So off I went in search of a milkshake off-campus, walking two blocks to Northeast Market, an aggregation of stalls under a single roof, stalls selling things like "maws," "chitlins," "pig's feet," fried chicken, and fresh fish. I found smoothies for sale but no milkshakes, which meant bringing nothing but disappointment back to Colleen. Her second choice was a plain donut. I couldn't score a donut of any kind either. She took the bad news in stride though. We counted up the days since she'd eaten anything solid. She'd had nothing since last Sunday night when she began fasting for Monday's procedure. But do I want to drive myself insane questioning the doctors?  No, not on this one. "Ours not to question why, ours but to do or die, into the valley of death rode the six hundred." Courtesy of Alfred Lord Tennyson

We've entered the doldrums of late afternoon, going on 4:30. Are we checking out of Baltimore tomorrow?


10 PM . BACK AT HOTEL
Before leaving Hopkins at 8:00 this evening, sunset colors still evident in the sky, Colleen and I each ordered a mini-cup of Haagen-Daaz ice cream off the hospital menu, the only size on offer. By the time I said goodnight, Col was tucked into a freshly made bed. We now end the day asking the same question we started it with: Will Colleen be released tomorrow?

PS: Colleen's cell phone charger went missing during the transfer of her belongings from her first room in Meyer to her room in the ICU. Her phone is now dead, which means we have no easy way to contact each other once I leave the hospital at night. Don't like this state of affairs. One more reason to go home.