My mother once told me that if you couldn’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all. Yep, she was the one who came up with that.
Luckily I didn’t listen, otherwise this blog wouldn’t exist.
So two days ago I posted about Desi and our family and how we were sick. Little did I know that within a few hours of that post we’d be in the ER. Desi has a fever. Teresa burst into tears like we had already failed him as parents, and I went into “let’s get done what needs to happen” mode, and got us to the hospital tout suite.
So generally, in medicine, the way they find out what’s wrong with you is by seeing how your immune system is fighting. The problem with this method is that 2 week old babies don’t yet have and immune system, so there’s nothing to check. So what they have to do is take blood samples, then put them in petri dishes and try and grow various bacteria. If it grows, then it’s in his blood. If not, then he’s clear. This is a process that takes 2 days. So we get to stay in the hospital for 48 hours. To top it all off, they have to check for spinal meningitis. Yep, spinal. So you know what that means?
My son, at the ripe age of 2 weeks, got a spinal tap. This means Noah is going to have to step it up if he wants to kee the “I survived my father” title for long. If Desi keeps on this course, he’ll be fighting giraffes by 3 months.
Your move Noah…your move.