The Kangaroo Crew arrived earlier than expected, around 12:30. They're a nice group of guys -- one doctor, one nurse, and two respiratory therapists. Packing Eric up looked to me, an anxious observer, a logistical nightmare. All those wires, tubes, and tapes. But the guys were confident and competent, and after two hours of fussing with this and fiddling with that, Eric was in the ambulance and on his way to Lake Charles' Chenault Airport.
We crossed over the Sabine River into Texas; Eric and Bob flew over and I crossed the bridge, driven by my good friend Leslie. Poured down rain nearly the whole way, and we sat through at least two traffic jams. Another good friend, Susan, drove my car, so the two of them drove back together.
Eric tolerated the flight well, and has settled into his new room, coincidentally ICU 17, on the third floor, which kind of makes it 317, which is the the exact same room number he left earlier today. It's quite different here. Eric has a large corner room with giant windows on two sides that overlook downtown Houston. The blinds are pulled up, and I imagine office workers in nearby buildings getting quite a view during patient baths. There's no hospitality room or guest trays three times a day. And security into the ICU is strict. You have to enter ICU through a waiting room. Then through a hand washing room. Then through a locked door that's only unlocked after you display your visitor badge. Only two visitors at a time. The staff are very friendly, and so far don't seem to mind our incessant questions. We can't sleep in his room, but supposedly we can sleep in the waiting room. They've got some pretty comfy-looking recliners. We'll figure it all out.