There I was: notes in hand, photos ready to go, drafting my first post in forever.
Then I heard a dog bark.
Funny thing. I don't have a dog. And the rabbit has never barked.
Then I heard a child cry. Children I have. Enough to come out of my proverbial wazoo. I'm not quite sure what a "wazoo" is, but it's quite likely that's where they did come out of. Except my last; he was cut out after giving the ob-gyn the single-finger salute (that's the only explanation for what his hand was doing down there)
Then I heard a wheezy, barky, tear-filled sob.
And now I'm wondering whether to head to the hospital now and wait in the ER all night; try to call my family doctor in the morning; or wait a few more hours and go to the hospital then.
The first time he had croup, we waited 4 hours in a crowded ER. He had a temp of 102. His O2 levels were around 80 by the time he got in. He was admitted and spent 3 days in hospital.
This is the fourth time. And even though the other two never got quite as bad as that first time, I always worry it will.
I'm a worrier. He started stuttering today. My mind immediately went to "brain tumour." Of course, my mind is more prone to go there given his NF and his recent MRI findings. But it was still a silly place to go.
I worry about this blog. It has been too long. I worry you'll all go away and never want to read me again. I broke a circle of reciprocity.
But I'm just being silly, right?
Kill the fatted calf. I'll be blogging from home or hospital tomorrow. Promise.