Sunday, May 21, 2006
quick update
16 plus hours at the hospital.
Again self-medicating as before.
Kept moving by adrenaline fires fueled by caffeine. Damn, that Devil Starbuck sure does make a damn fine cup of coffee.
Home now. Physically exhausted to the point of total body pain. But the mind. . . oh yes, the mind keeps spinning, spinning, spinning. Sometimes you just gotta do something to shut down the machine.
Don't know how The Wife is doing it. I tried to talk her into being the one to come tonight, she is in far greater need of rest. She said, "If I go home, I'll just be a mess. I'd rather just be a mess here."
Never come between a momma bear and her cub.
It's like this super-human mom power just fucking took over. It is amazing to behold. Far less sleep than I. She knows too much. Her education adds to her anxiety because she more fully understands the gravity of the situation and is kept awake by thoughts of the myriad things that can still go wrong. Damn I love her.
But I slightly digress. . .
The Boy remains sick. Really sick. Apparently he's come down with a rather nasty case of pneumonia.
Fuck. It is our greatest fear realized. It always is. The Boy has respiratory issues on the best of days. They pose the greatest continual threat to his health. Throw in some nasty bug and "Presto!"
Although the prognosis remains positive, we are not yet completely back from the edge of being totally fucked.
Good news: Out of the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU), into a room on a regular floor. Wonderful afternoon, seriously entertaining thoughts of leaving tomorrow.
Bad news: Bit of a relapse of the whole can't fucking breathe because his lungs are blocked with mucous thing at about six this evening. When I left the hospital we were right back where we started yesterday, minus being back in the fishbowl of the PICU.
Optimisitic news: The Wife and I had a nice chat with the doctor right before I left. I think they are finally starting to get it and hopefully realize that we know our kid better than they do so they should just shut the fuck up and listen to the things we tell them. We are not some fucking rednecks with a regular sick kid. We are highly trained, experienced and educated. The Boy is indeed a unique creature, not at all wired or constructed like the rest of us. He is The Boy, our boy. We know him, we love him. We fucking understand. Shut your fucking pie-hole and think twice before lecturing us about meeting The Boy's medical needs. We know the medical shit. We live with it every goddamned day. So either fuck off or listen!
Sorry, I was ranting. Just feeling a little frustration with recent events and with the overall healthcare system. I'm just really fucking tired and just want to bring my kid fucking home.
Sigh. . .
Again, out of the PICU but not out of the woods. . .
|
Again self-medicating as before.
Kept moving by adrenaline fires fueled by caffeine. Damn, that Devil Starbuck sure does make a damn fine cup of coffee.
Home now. Physically exhausted to the point of total body pain. But the mind. . . oh yes, the mind keeps spinning, spinning, spinning. Sometimes you just gotta do something to shut down the machine.
Don't know how The Wife is doing it. I tried to talk her into being the one to come tonight, she is in far greater need of rest. She said, "If I go home, I'll just be a mess. I'd rather just be a mess here."
Never come between a momma bear and her cub.
It's like this super-human mom power just fucking took over. It is amazing to behold. Far less sleep than I. She knows too much. Her education adds to her anxiety because she more fully understands the gravity of the situation and is kept awake by thoughts of the myriad things that can still go wrong. Damn I love her.
But I slightly digress. . .
The Boy remains sick. Really sick. Apparently he's come down with a rather nasty case of pneumonia.
Fuck. It is our greatest fear realized. It always is. The Boy has respiratory issues on the best of days. They pose the greatest continual threat to his health. Throw in some nasty bug and "Presto!"
Although the prognosis remains positive, we are not yet completely back from the edge of being totally fucked.
Good news: Out of the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU), into a room on a regular floor. Wonderful afternoon, seriously entertaining thoughts of leaving tomorrow.
Bad news: Bit of a relapse of the whole can't fucking breathe because his lungs are blocked with mucous thing at about six this evening. When I left the hospital we were right back where we started yesterday, minus being back in the fishbowl of the PICU.
Optimisitic news: The Wife and I had a nice chat with the doctor right before I left. I think they are finally starting to get it and hopefully realize that we know our kid better than they do so they should just shut the fuck up and listen to the things we tell them. We are not some fucking rednecks with a regular sick kid. We are highly trained, experienced and educated. The Boy is indeed a unique creature, not at all wired or constructed like the rest of us. He is The Boy, our boy. We know him, we love him. We fucking understand. Shut your fucking pie-hole and think twice before lecturing us about meeting The Boy's medical needs. We know the medical shit. We live with it every goddamned day. So either fuck off or listen!
Sorry, I was ranting. Just feeling a little frustration with recent events and with the overall healthcare system. I'm just really fucking tired and just want to bring my kid fucking home.
Sigh. . .
Again, out of the PICU but not out of the woods. . .
|
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