there are different kinds of camping.

& I don't mean the camper or RV kind vs. the tent kind.

Well. Us + Lassen wasn't meant to be for us last weekend. No, no--instead of thermarest and down-y sleeping bag looking up at the stars, it was a straight-backed chair with my head crookedly resting on an ER gurney. Or two chairs pushed together with knees forcibly in the fetal position to nap. Or the two of us huddled in Steve's hospital bed, waking up to the sight of his bewildered doctor staring down at us as he said, "Good morning?" as if it were a question. Yup, a different kind of camping. Funny how this kind makes me feel more gross than the typical dirt-and-sweat kind.

But thankfully Steve is past the worst of it and we are back home now, strong drugs on board. Pain is under control more and more. All the scary stuff was ruled out. Nurses are funny. I love their crooked, kind of offbeat humor--that's probably why I get along so well with a certain handsome one in particular.

& that thing about nurses not being good patients? Really not true in this case. Steve rocked the casbah as always. My rock. In no time he'll be running circles around me like he usually does.