10:34. That's the time my computer's displaying right now. I'm on the couch in my family room. Adam's a few feet away screwing with his phone. Abby and Isaac are in bed. Brady is catnapping and ferociously chomping on a pacifier in his carseat.
It wasn't a great birthday. In fact, it was probably the worst I've ever had, ranking up there with #15, when I fractured my leg while checking the mailbox for cards. (It was icy and I slipped on the curb.) I tried to keep a good attitude, but my heart is just so broken. I feel defeated and frustrated. I hate the thought that if that number is correct, Logan will likely wind up stuck at CHO with a raging case of mucusitis. And I'm baffled: Once the number drops, it's supposed to STAY dropped. After all, no one gave him additional drugs. It just doesn't make sense. Did God do that? If so, is He going to protect him from said pain, or will my poor, long-suffering 4-year old be forced to go through yet more discomfort? It's so inhuman and awful that it makes me want to scream.
But I guess a lot of things about this life don't make sense. The takeaway is that despite my hopes, #33 ended up being a day I'd probably rather forget down the line.
So sorry to hear this Sherry. I was hoping it was going to be a day all your wishes came true. Thoughts are with you.
ReplyDeleteCertainly time to rally the troops! I so wish that your birthday had been a day filled with joy. Praying that tomorrow is exponentially better.
ReplyDeleteI keep wondering if something was 'off' on the assay/test that they use and that threw the numbers. Yes, you had two different blood draws, but they were performed the same day. Of course, they probably ran controls as well, so they'd know this, but since troubleshooting diagnostic tests is something I did in a past life, it made me wonder.
ReplyDeleteAgain, I'm sorry your birthday was lousy.
Kris