Q is still in the hospital, and T and I are about to go batty. He is cheerful and doing well, but his oxygen saturation levels are still a bit low. The doctor who examined him this morning prescribed steroids. T is worried about his future in the Tour de France. Hopefully that will help his breathing, though. They also took him off oxygen and are going to see how he does. We hope to take him home tonight or tomorrow morning.
Hospitals are not fun places to be. You constantly have people coming in and out and peeking through the blinds to check his monitors. None of the nurses seem to communicate, so they are all doing different things. Q's breathing treatments act like stimulants so he is constantly awake and crying late at night. There are babies crying in other rooms. It is just a sad place to be.
I worked my regular hours this week, and I just about lost it on Friday. I was dripping with tiredness and had that overwhelming irritability that comes with lack of sleep. I had a conference call with our image consultant at 2:30. I had to hurry to make it in for that. She told me my hair was too short and one suit was too tight in the bust (a common problem when you are lactating). It seemed so frivolous at that particular moment. Plus, I like my current hair cut, and it aggravates me that I have no choice in the matter. I plan to be passive aggressive and only grow it out a half inch or so. It's not like they can ban me from the hair salon.
To top it all off, my mom told me she had to put our family cat to sleep this week. Poor Charlie. He was my buddy. She was very sad about it, and it sounded like an excruciating choice. He was in pain though and was probably about 16. He came into our family when a friend found him as a kitten abandoned in a field. What a wonderful life he ended up having! My mom said she keeps looking for him around the house. That was heart-breaking. I hope for his sake there is a cat heaven with slow, fat, blind mice and fields of catnip.
--MM
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