day VIII

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8/10/18

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8/10/18

    Dear David,

    You are really starting to look like your old self from before the car crash now because you aren’t as pale and your nose is no longer swollen and the bruises have faded. The doctors ae being optimistic right now about you but you are still on life support and you can’t breathe on your own without the help of a ventilator to do the breathing for you. You started sounding raspy this morning so that was a cause for concern. The doctors are going to wait to do something until the tenth if you are still breathing raspy. I’m really worried about you, David, because I know that I am in love with you. The doctors are going to wait to see if your breathing gets better on its own or if you start showing symptoms of a respiratory illness.

    Right now you’re already on a cocktail of medicines that I can’t even pronounce, much less spell, that are keeping you comfortable while you heal. They’ve been keeping inflammation out, keeping you hydrated, a laxative to make the enemas that the nurses give you every other day easier, and a medicine that keeps infection out of your leg because of the metal in it and all of the stitches in it. You don’t seem to be in pain as I write this by your hospital bedside.

    Kathleen keeps trying to see what I am writing because I told her yesterday that I have been writing letters to you in this little book. I’m not going to let her read any of the letters because that is going to be in between me and you, David, when you wake up. Kathleen would be scandalized if I let her read the letters I write to you because of some of the things I write.

    I love you, David, and I want you to wake up soon so I can tell you my real feelings for you.

Love,

Simon

dear david | damon ✓Where stories live. Discover now