The worst part about a Tuesday morning is how far away the next Monday night is.
That’s what I’m thinking about at just after 6am this morning while laying in a hospital room for the 7th day in a row, while my son sleeps a few feet away.
Last night felt almost normal. Almost.
I had therapy during my regularly scheduled time, 6-8pm. My husband picked me up from the hospital at 5:30 and we drove over together. Him and his therapist ended up going back to the hospital to see my son (she is also my sons therapist and has been out of town and hasn’t seen him yet), so my car stayed with me, and I got to drive back by myself.
Therapy was super weird, but in a very normal way…if that makes sense.
For some reason, we ended up doing the entire 2 hour session in the waiting room. She’s the only person working out of her office, so it’s not like there was even a risk of anyone else being there, but it was just different. Obviously.
She was on the couch and I was in a chair which is opposite of how it usually is, but I’m way more comfortable sitting in my strange contorted ways in a chair than I am trying to look like a normal human being sitting on a couch. We were both a ton more comfortable, and it even felt like some of the pressure was taken off, even after an INCREDIBLY high pressure week.
We talked about my son in the hospital, obviously, his status and his condition. And my birth son…whose birthday is officially in 2 days.
It feels like there’s no true resolution to any of this. My son will turn 10. Without me there. And there’s nothing I can do about that. I wrote his letter, sent his gift, and it should get there tomorrow, the day before his birthday.
My other son will either get released from the hospital, or be directly transferred to the children’s hospital 2 hours away. The finally contacted HIS neuromuscular doctor and she told them he NEEDS bipap, not oxygen. Something about being a negative pressure system, because his issue isn’t a lack of oxygen. It’s a lack of good muscles. And the hospital he’s at now does not have bipap on the pediatric floor. Ugh. Ok. So…I have no idea what comes next, but I’m HOPING to just bring him home and keep him stable at home with meds and rest.
His doctor also said it will likely take weeks to months to fully recover from this. He can’t walk more than a few feet without getting completely short of breath.
My husband has been out of work at home helping me deal with all of this, and won’t be getting paid. Again. Between his dad dying, and our son being in the hospital, he’s had a total of about 3 unpaid weeks within the past 6 weeks. It’s been awful. Again.
The only good thing about this week is the fact that I’ll get to go to therapy again on Thursday morning, from 8-10. On his birthday.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through any of this. It all feels so impossible. I don’t know how I’m doing any of it right now as it is…and adding to it…it doesn’t feel possible.
My support system is rather limited right now. Ever since my best friend got pregnant, our conversations are limited to maybe 2 texts a day. As opposed to literally talking all throughout the day, every day. I miss her. A lot. And it sucks.
But it is what it is.
My husband is doing the best he can. But honestly…he could do better. This separation has been hard on both of us, with him having to be at home, and me at the hospital.
Tonight, for the first time in a week, maybe we’ll get to share a bed. That would be nice. Sleeping next to a person again, instead of a clean pile of laundry, halfway folded.
I’m doing my best right now. And I’m trying to appreciate the little things.
Like having therapy in a waiting room. Or having therapy in general. And having someone that cares.
Or my husband texting me last night because he’s putting an effort in, even if being on his phone isn’t something that he remembers to do. Or watching baseball.
Or coffee.
Definitely coffee.
Hoping for the best for all of you!