Tonight a friend brought by some homemade handpies which we secreted off to the basement to enjoy in front of episode 8 of The Last of Us.

In this episode, Joel, who has been unconscious for a bit due to being stabbed in the belly, receives two shots of penicillin directly into the gory wound. This treatment, plus 24 hours rest, rejuvenates him to the point that he is able to hop up and dispatch any number of people who would otherwise have dispatched him. He then takes his young protege, who had been on an arduous and bloody journey of her own, under his arm and they walk off into the snowy wilderness.

Of course it would be bad tv to show what recovery really looks like. Lots of episodes with Joel napping, one imagines. That awesome episode where he eats a surprisingly big lunch and then falls asleep on the couch. The one where he gets up and says, “I’m gonna do some laundry,” and Ellie says, “Uhm, really? Laundry? Why don’t I do the laundry?” And he says, “I want to feel like more of a contributing member of this family,” and then he goes off and does a load and has to sleep for two hours before being woken with a cup of tea and a piece of buttered toast.

“Could there be jam on the toast?”

“Of course there could.”

“Thank you. You can’t know what this means to me.”

“I can imagine.”

“I dreampt that I had been in a coma and all the progress was just a dream and that when I woke up I wouldn’t be able to move my arms.”

“That is a terrible dream.”

“But how do I know it’s a dream?”

“I promise you.”

“How do I know this isn’t a dream?”

“Because there’s no jam on your toast yet.”

“Ok.”

Then Tanja slept for a couple hours and we went to her wound appointment. The wound people are cheery and competent and no nonsense. They measured the wound on the back of her head, reported the progress, applied some silver nitrate to bring the super-granularity under control and told Tanja she didn’t need another appointment unless she wanted it. Her hesitancy was understandable–who wouldn’t want to come back to visit such upbeat, practical, business-like people. But Tanja chose progress and independence.

Then we went home and she slept for another couple hours before dinner.

“I’m not doing a lot of work today,” she said at dinner.

“It seems like you need the rest.”

“I’m listening to my body,” she said.

“Of course.”

“My body is my friend,” she said. It was such a sweet and honest observation that she began to cry.

There is just a tremendous amount of work that goes on behind the scenes in order to put on the Tanja show. Gears turning. Scaffolding going up. Preparations fine and gross. It’s a major production in the best of times. And now, after this destructive blow, it’s all hands on deck 24/7, all non-essential activities shut down.

So back to bed at 8:10. It’s not great tv. But it feels like real progress:)