I complain a lot. Too much. About stupid stuff, but who doesn't? We all get bogged down by little crap that we don't even remember a year later. Poopy diapers. Crabby kids. Overflowing toilets. Leaves that blow in my door all the freaking time.
Nothing really important.
We got a text message yesterday. Our friends' son, who is just a few weeks younger than Rowan, is in the Peds ICU. They don't know what's wrong. Every few hours, I'd get a new one: aggressive infection, but his heart is OK. Airlift to the big hospital in Danville. He's no longer purple. Only one seizure. Intubated. Sedated. On IV's. Rash is improving. CT scan says his brain is OK, they think.
But they still don't know what's wrong. Infectious disease? Scarlet fever? Still don't know.
His dad called me yesterday afternoon, and cried while he told me what was happening. So did I. He asked me to go to their house and get some clothes together for them. Rowan fell asleep, so I made them some banana and chocolate chip muffins while I waited. Then another friend called and said he'd do it, since he was going to take the stuff to them anyway, and had the time. He and his wife live halfway in between here and the hospital, so they can most easily be the go-betweens. He'd stop in for the muffins.
Secretly, I was relieved. If it was infectious, and was on his toys--what if Rowan picked it up? I feel for them, I am so worried, but I have to protect her, too.
The friend's wife called as they were driving home from the hospital and gave me the update. Things are looking better, but they still don't know much. He's in a clean room, and everyone is in masks and gowns to go in. Just like an episode of House, they are still trying to figure out what is going on. They know they will be there for at least a week, if not longer. We are praying for Graham, Angie and Erik, and the doctors and nurses taking care of him.
Every minute, every step, every breath she took was magic. I attacked her with kisses, and she attacked back. Her dad scooped her up, tossing her in the air and both of them squealed with delight. Such a relief, knowing she was OK.
Amazing, how something like this even makes tantrums look precious.