November 5th, 2002 - 9PM CST:
Here we are on Election Day and my Abba is stuck in a hospital room. He's overcoming his pain and finding ways to manage it. He's discovered that he was able to raise his oxygen saturation when he gets up and walks around (which he did a lot today). He even did some stair-climbing with the physical therapist today. All of these accomplishments didn't take away from his general frustration that he can't be in Madison with his friends at the Doyle campaign headquarters.

On another note - I've noticed that in some of the more recent e-mails I've received for my Abba, many of you have implied that you are worried my Abba is burdened by your e-mails. I imagine that, since you haven't received personal responses yet that you're worried he's feeling the weight of pressure regarding that. I suppose this is my fault - I should have explained this sooner. My Eama (mother) and I spend all day at the hospital with my Abba. My morning ritual is to collect all of the new messages for my Abba, combine them into a MS Word Document, and print them. I then take all the letters with me to the hospital and my Eama and I take turns reading them to my Abba.

Any time he feels pain or looks like he's loosing motivation, we read a letter. When he needs to focus on something to take his mind off the pain and transition he's going through after his surgery, he focuses on the many beautiful and touching cards you've sent. In short, although he's not really in a position to respond to your messages directly, the power they bring to him is apparent. To be clear, your letters and cards are no less valuable than the pain meds the doctors have him take. If I've done anything that suggests otherwise, allow me to apologize. Please, please, keep the letters coming. They mean a great deal to my Abba.