Michael was sitting up in a chair for a while today. He is completely off the ventilator -- in fact, the ventilator has left the room. (Every time I visit, there's less and less equipment.) He is getting extra oxygen and there's saline to keep things lubricated. He coughed and it was loose and, while it probably hurt like hell, it was good. His hands are no longer restrained, though he is wearing special mitts so he doesn't pull out a tube or something (he's got more ports than my computer). He's not really awake and it's hard to say when he will be; his eyes barely open. He moves, but not when you ask him to; doesn't respond to any commands. There's a very bad bruise on his back and left shoulder -- the fractured scapula. Thank goodness his shoulder took that impact rather than his spine. I saw more pictures of the car today. My knees go weak and I am overcome with emotion -- still -- when I think about and realize how incredibly fortunate he is, we are. I can't think of a word that comes close to describing it. He gets tears in his eyes. I get tears in mine. I hope and pray.