Mother Tiger's Never Quit

We are home again. For the 5th time in not quite eleven months, we have come home from the hospital. But this time there's no celebratory "VICTORY!" feeling, there is an overwhelming sense of apprehension. Worry. Fear.

How do we really know if everything is okay this time? When will we feel it is truly behind us? I guess the answer is we will never know. Maybe it is meant to be that the events of the last eleven months really are what define us, and we cannot discard that identity like we do Parker's bandages. Maybe this is who we are, and who we will be forever.

It all feels pretty gloomy tonight, but there remains that still, small voice inside my head and my heart that says, "I am here with you and I will not leave you alone." Thank you God.

I am sure tomorrow we will feel better. Tomorrow will be sunny and the edema on Parker's abdomen will have gone down (due in large part to all the green tea and lemon I am forcing him to drink). There was some concern from the doctors about the fluid, whether it might get infected and what signs we need to look for "just in case."

So I sit and stare at Parker. I flinch at every movement he makes, jump each time he breathes deeply because he is bound up so tight with his stiff binders he can only stretch out in an awkward way without discomfort. I wait like a mother tiger for illness to reappear so I can pounce quickly. I will never give up.