It seems that I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in hospitals in Januaries. My daddy almost died in a car accident during the January I was in the fifth grade. My baby sister almost died when she was hit by a car in the January of my junior year in college. And in January of this year, Frat Boy The Younger and I had a three day stint in the pediatric wing because he had double pneumonia.
It was terrifying.
I don’t even want to know how much it is going to cost.
But gracious. How wonderful are nurses? And how great is it to be home and healthy several days later?
While I was there, I sent a message to my friend, Kelly, whose almost four-year-old daughter has been fighting cancer for over half of her life. “I don’t know how you do this on the regular,” I told her. She assured me she has her moments, but thinking of her and the families I met during our convergent corridor-roaming where we all searched for respite from the hospital rooms, I stayed teary. They are warriors.
During his stay, Frat Boy The Younger was attached to three different machines by three different part of his body. This became a problem when he got so manic from the unholy trifecta of steroids, toddler energy, and cabin fever that he ripped the oxygen tube out of the wall and kept getting all of the other tethers tangled around the bed. He begged to go home the entire time we were there.
Aside from going home, getting so many sweet messages from so many people who care about us was the best part of the ordeal. Offers of help, prayer, meals and more came from my best people. And the hospital cable included Bravo on channel 37. Praise be to JC for a constant loop of Real Housewives playing in the wee hours while I listened to make sure FBTY was still breathing.
And I’ll stop joking around about wanting to have another baby so I can go back to the hospital for a few days so those blessed nurses can take care of me. I don’t wanna go back. And I’m good with the babies I have.