Sunday, June 9, 2013

                               June 9, 2013

Dad and Adler June 6, 2013

Dear Jane,
      I hesitate writing this morning. For a myriad of reasons really. Overwhelm, exhaustion, vulnerability and fear of sounding like a middle aged whiner bo name but a few. 
           This past week has inched by like a snail running a marathon. Each day packed with hours burdened by minutes. Each day a barrage of new questions making their way to the surface for air. Sometimes the air came in calm, gentle, bouts.    Sometimes the air came in hot, lung bursting, gasps.    And sometimes, the air never even came at all.
     The saga of our week reads more like a full fledged novella. Some pages sticking together from tears and perspiration and some pages so "dog eared" you can't find where your last reading session ended or where your new session awaits.
    Addy spent the whole work week in the Hospital in some form or another. Some days were out-patient as we searched the glossary looking for clues and some days were spent in-patient as we searched the chapter titles praying for answers. Finally, Addy's fever broke like a wild stallion being corralled. Slowly Addy caught up to the snail as he regained his coloring and pain subsided. We're still searching for the elusive energy elf...Hoping he'll make a Midnight drive by "energy-ing." As long as we're already hoping, might as we'll hope the energy elf is off gallivanting with the appetite elf  and that the energy elf rides a bicycle built for Two.
         We're home now. Still many questions painstakingly searching for air. Jamie and I were trained by "home health" to administer medications and fluids from home. So thankful that home health even exists as I am certain the deepest sort of healing can be found at home. Blessed home.
    "Counts" (blood counts and otherwise) are still running low. Addy's ANC (white blood cells...which ward off and fight infection) are at 0.0 So, our prayer for today is that miraculously, those counts will rise allowing Addy to regain strength and that the persistent and relentless nausea will take up camp someplace far, far, away.
            For now, I plan on celebrating our release back into the wild.  Because, I have come to know... "All good things are wild and free."

            "Where seldom is heard a 
             discouraging word and the 
             skies are not cloudy all day",


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