Tuesday, 3:30 pm

I just got back from the hospital. I think he's better. I mean, they have him sedated, but when he's awake, he's present. He tried to joke, in a small way, with our friend J, who was worried my dad might not want him there. I asked if it was OK if J was there, and he shook his head no.

J asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

My dad looked stern and nodded. But he had a twinkle in his eye. I knew he was kidding. I asked if he was kidding, and he nodded and smiled. Joking is not low level thinking, is it? I don't think so.

When J left he said to my dad, "You're a good looking guy, you know?"

And my dad pointed and mouthed something. It took us a few tries to figure out that he was saying, "You're blushing." Which was cute. And then made J blush.

As for the swallowing, we don't know. He's strong enough to cough up all kinds of disgusting phlegm that you suction out of the trache thingy. It's gross, but a relief, you know?

If you ask if he's thirsty, and he nods, you can swab his mouth with these little sponges on a stick. I think he's trying to swallow. I just don't know if any is going down, because we still need to suction a lot out.

The nurses have been great. Very kind to my dad, nice about explaining things to us, and conscientious. And my mom and brother liked his doctor, who I've still not met. The sitter that they had with my dad yesterday - all suicide watch patients get 24-hour sitters - said that his doctor is very cute.

He's Indian, which somehow makes me really happy. I don't think I'm doing racial profiling, but maybe. I like to think it's more that I was born in an Indian hospital in New Delhi, and grew up surrounded by Indians.

In fact, my mom said I was the only white baby in the nursery. There were all these gorgeous brown babies with full heads of black hair. And then they spotted one tiny little white-pink bald one. They didn't say they had an "ick, let's trade ours for one of the cute ones" reaction, but I think I would've.