Cystic Fibrosis · Family · Life

Well, poop.

In a somewhat-but-not-totally unexpected turn of events, Levi and I are headed to the hospital in the morning. He’s got a cough that he just cannot get rid of. Despite throwing several meds at it for a few weeks, it got markedly worse yesterday. A cough itself is, of course, not the end of the world. The concern is about permanent lung damage; the longer whatever nasty bug is down there camps out, the more chance there is that it helps kill some cilia. That would be bad. So we’ll check in and they’ll place a line for Levi that we can use to do infusions at home. If all goes well, we’ll stay just one night.

This is our second time for home IVs. The first time is always the hardest, we’re told. That’s true for us so far. Last time I cried when they said we had to do this. This time I went with the heavy sigh.

Possibly most cheerful about this development is Levi. Paul and I are a little worried, and have our mind on logistics. Elias has discovered that he will be left behind – AGAIN – and is pouting. Levi is anticipating eating in bed and watching cartoons. Also, he’s assembling a pile of things he absolutely cannot live without. I have no problem packing his favorite stuffed animal and a few books. The big monster truck is probably not going to make the cut, though.

In what may be an indicator of how profoundly distracted I am right now, I did not do this on purpose.

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Seriously. I dressed Levi for school and then later on changed Elias out of his pajamas, and it was not until I picked Levi up at noon that I realized they were dressed as twins. Can you even tell them apart?

HAHAHAHAHA. Sorry. I couldn’t resist.

Somebody actually asked Paul once if they were twins. They were in a double stroller, turned away from her, and all she could see was feet. Paul grinned and swung the stroller around as his answer. “Oh,” she said. “Guess not.”

Uh-huh.

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