Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Perks to being more inpatient than outpatient (in the last two months)

-You don't have to buy diapers.
-You have a constant supply of fresh linens.
-You have a night team constantly checking on your boy so your role switches to shooing them away (instead of worrying about him yourself).
-Daily mopping.
-Music therapy and Art therapy!
-Having a team of doctors and nurses a button-push away.
-The suspense of waiting for the daily ANC blood count is better than any of the latest thrillers.
-Living for days (and weeks) in a hospital room makes your small house seem huge.
-Your tolerance for chaos grows on a daily basis.
-You realize that you aren't missing anything by not having cable at home...except for Food Network and HGTV. I mean, what in the world is Honey Boo Boo?? But I might die if you take away Chopped or Renovation Raiders.
-You start longing for normalcy...even daily chores and cooking seem so, so appealing. Not ironing, though. Never ironing.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Thankful for...

Hugs from old friends.

A resilient daughter who's tender and tough.

A son who grabbed my cell phone this morning.

My mom who hasn't gone home since this has all started.

A visit from one of our (awesome) PICU nurses, Holli.

Hearing about the masses of people praying for Watts.

Dr Russell, who speaks truth and encourages weary parents.

Thai food. 

Nurses that tiptoe when Watts' sleeping (they love our boy, I can tell:).

Java by Jeff Coffee. Best in the hospital.
(I just need to start a petition for them to be open on the weekends)

Danskos.

This boy...




Friday, May 31, 2013

Rambles

Day 6. At the end of a long day, I sit. Music plays quietly next to Watts and the ICU is quiet. Today has been slower, more time to ask questions, more time to come up with a game plan. 

Watts is stabilized and sedated, sleeping peacefully amidst the tubes and wires and beeping machines. His body is swollen, but his color is better and he's fighting like a champ.

We've been trying to be here for Watts, talk to a million doctors, sign papers, get a crash course on medical jargon/leukemia/infections, pump every 2 hours to salvage supply, and attempt to process and wrap our heads around all that has happened in the last 6 days. All while trying to somewhat normalize everything for Piper. Sweet, strong Piper. The past few days have been incredibly rough on her tender heart. 
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6 days. Last Thursday, we grilled out on the back deck and laughed at the kids' funny faces and antics, a week later we are here. Last Friday morning, we all went on a 3 mile run and got bagels at Breuggers, this Friday we will be at Brenner. How quickly life changes.

Taped above Watty's head are six pictures of him smiling and laughing with his papa, sister, and me. Even in only 6 days, it's hard at times to remember  what life was like when everything was normal, when he was "healthy."
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His blessings cover us. Throughout the day we glimpse them, even in the midst of chaos. I've started jotting them down, in true Ann Voscamp style, a chronicle of beauty through all of this.
   

That we have a diagnosis and treatment can start.
The humor (and confidence) of the ambulance respiratory transport team that took Watts and me from Moses Cone to Brenner.
The kindness and awesomeness of Dr Sam Ajizian.
Ronald McDonald House.
Love and support of everyone. 
Supernatural strength for Michael and me to function under all of these circumstances.

 And the list goes on and on.
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Throughout the past six days, the words, "He makes all things new in His time" have been pounding through my head... while holding my thrashing fever-stricken son in the ER, while jogging behind the stretcher towards the ambulance to head towards Brenner, while sitting in the little room with the doctors receiving the worst news of my life.  He's been in every moment through all of this...dark as it might seem, I feel cupped in His hand.

 
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