We're on Day Six in the hospital, with four or five left to go so my son can finish treatment and work on getting stronger.
Throughout the adventure, we've worked with at least thirty doctors and students, fifteen nurses, two crews of paramedics, eight patient care assistants, ten respiratory techs, a half dozen folks in imaging (xray, ultrasound, MRI), then the innumerable people who've brought his trays and linens and meds, cleaned the room, offered him distractions and organized his care. So many people are behind the scenes, folks we may never meet.
And then there are our friends, who've brought us food and cute socks and strong shoulders, listened to me rant and wonder and curse. Who've offered to bring dinner to the other half of my family, to help with all sorts of things. There are the folks at work who are pitching in to make things happen while I'm away, and all the people who've sent well wishes and cards and balloon bouquets.
I am awed by all this activity.
AND, I'd still rather we had avoided the medical emergencies in the first place. There is no revelation valuable enough to make the hell time worth it.