First of all, if any of you have the chance to marry a firefighter, I would like to casually say that you're not marrying a single person, you're marring their entire job. Sure, you hear that, but yeah, not a joke. This is a good thing. I have met more firefighters and chiefs and lieutenants in the last 48 hours than I thought possible. And they're incredibly genuine men, even the ones I know were there to poke holes in Mr. Farce's potential Worker's Comp claim. (I'll write about that later, because I'm sure this story will evolve.)

I spent Thrusday night at the hospital in the ICU with him, they had a pull-out cot and some blankets for me. The whole medical staff is amazing and sweet and deserve awards. By Friday morning, the swelling in his trachea (which his father kept calling "tracheotomy" and it was making me bonkers) had gone down and they were willing to extubate. They dialed back the "milk of amnesia" (propofol) and slowly woke him. He was communicative and a wiseass even before they extubated, making faces and hand signals and asking what had happened. We explained. Then he asked if he was still in the academy. From all accounts, he is.

By 4, they had removed the central line and his catheter (he was most happy about that!) and he was standing and able to eat solid food. This from a man who not 30 hours earlier was essentially cooking himself. By 6, he was released to a regular floor (definitely room down grade, but amazing health upgrade!) and he's expected to be discharged on Sunday.

He has always joked that he "heals like Wolverine," and I can't offer any explanation as to his quick recovery other than amazing, immediate EMS and medical care. His fellow recruits saved his life, no doubt about it. I'm getting their information and sending them... something. I donno what. Beer of the month? My first born child? What's an appropriate thank you for saving someone's life?

On another note, looks like that wedding guest list just got bigger - and I couldn't be happier about it. I don't care about money. At all. Sure, we'll have to care again at some point, but this was a not-too-subtle sign that there are bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

I'm off to the hospital now. Good friends took the dogs on Thursday and Friday, and I managed to make it back home last night. Thanks for listening, GT. My week from hell is ending on a high-note. :)