what a gift

Larsy slept well last night. I mean he slept really well. And he woke happy. He was up late with his nighttime floor and bath adventures, then drifted off peacefully. Vitals and valium at 2 a.m. bugged him a little, but not too much. Roommate's phone ringing at 6:30 woke him for an hour, but then again blissfully back to sleep. Dr. Interrupticus (who replaces Dr. Grandpa Uninformative during the week) came in & finished my sentences for me. Yup. He did say that endoscopy & ph probe are scheduled for 1:30 tomorrow. If they don't solve this mystery, then neuro will start testing.

At 8:30 the IV nurse was here and the sleep gig was over. Lars was amazing through the new IV placement; with mama's singing he winced but didn't cry. They were able to insert a larger needle that should last through various procedures & scans, and they were able to place it a bit farther up on his hand so he can still use his fingers. Still, Lars' mood was decidedly dampened by having the IV back in. Understandable.

We're listening to Stevie Wonder this morning. Love it.

Another gift this morning, Tamara provided black gold on demand: small mr. coffee + lb of *$ sumatra + filters + scoop + loan of her tickle monster mug = Mama juice whenever she needs it. Life just got better.

Yesterday full of the joy of having recovered so fast from my blitzbug, the company of my beautiful sons & wife, Jill who came in the afternoon, the 17 eager grad students I met @ 4 for our first of 15 classes together, Denise in the evening, and then Carylbeth deep into the night--my night nurse from way back when Lars was 2 months old. So good to have a beautiful night owl friend who lives closeish. And then a pretty good sleep, coffee this morning, and most of all a glimpse of happy Lars again. I am so thankful.

Holding this little-boy-piece-of-my-heart-out-there through his pain, and through the 'snowing' that comes over him while he's on both valium and morphine but they're still not blocking all the agony and he doesn't know who we are or where he is, only the misery- It's heartbreaking. It's like the feeling of seeing his light flicker when he has a seizure.

"The way we look to a distant constellation that's dying in a corner of the sky..." (Paul Simon, Boy in the Bubble)

The balance lives in the overwhelming gratitude I feel when the light is strong.

I have always been blessed with a nose that's not only monumental in length, but also in its olfactory detection abilities. The roommates who arrived yesterday afternoon have a decidedly unpleasantly strong odor about them. Anyone have a pick axe or diamond ring that I could use to make a hole in my window?