WAKE UP WOO!

I definitely look forward to the weekends. Not because I get a break from school or because I am going to go out and party for 3 days straight like everyone else my age, but because I can get super good parking at the hospital. It's sad that these are the things I get excited about nowadays. By the way, we have now spent 4 weekends here at the hospital....

Last night the nurse pointed to my mom and asked Trevor who she was. He answered, "Walker." Whoops! But in Trevor's defense, Walker had just left, so maybe he just misunderstood the question.

All of Trevor's cords are now out, which is great news. Only thing left is the brain drain. It's definitely not normal to keep a container full of drained brain blood in your pocket, but hey, Trevor has never been into conforming. I'm thinking maybe we should get him a pocket protector for that hospital gown of his...

For this picture, I held up my phone and told him to smile. He opened his mouth, a little confused. I took the picture and then he smiled. Brat!

It makes me sad watching him feed himself. He does much better than I could even dream about doing with my left hand, but he still has no feeling on the right side of his face. He has no idea when he's spilling on the right side, so there is constantly food running down his face. And there's definitely some crazy food residue building up in that beard of his.

Trevor keeps sliding down in his bed so we have to grab the blankets under him to scootch him up. Whoa, I had no idea that scootch isn't actually a word but I'm currently unable to think of a synonym, but anyways. Every time we go to lift him up, he counts off for us, 1, 2, 3, in that crazy Mexican accent of his. It's my favorite.

Trevor and I got in a fight today. Whenever I am the only one in the room with him, he tries as hard as he can to get me in trouble. He'll try to wet the bed, lower his head below 30 degrees, put a bunch of wrinkles in his sheets or anything he can. Today, he pushed the side rail button, lowered it down, dropped his legs off the side of the bed and tried to get up. I told him he couldn't get up and grabbed his arm. He got super mad and looked at me like "Dude, you're my little sister, don't tell me what to do" and tried to push me away and get up again. We got in an arm wrestle, I won and he was pissed at me the rest of the day. I guess sibling rivalries are still existent during brain injuries...