I Didn't Realize

Trust and Believe

72 Hours

72 hours to getting out of here with the brilliant jackasses that have no common sense. I want to find out who specifically ordered the binge feeding. They will never do that again. Now we watch Jason to mAke sure he has no signs of the vomit backing up into his lungs. I am so sick and tired that I am literally sick and tired. Fever, cough, delirium. I don't have the energy or fluid to cry. I feel miserable. My phlegm is green and the want to die is amplified by my physical pain no longer fueled by just emotional. I can't sleep. I wake up every hour and fight with Carmelo about heading back to the hospital.

I can't endanger Jason. I have to stay away especially with fever. I know this and understand it but I don't want to accept it. I don't want it to be true. I'm his mother. I have to continue to be there every minute. I can't leave him with strangers. 

I want to stalk his room in a Michael Myers mask so I can know every second for certain he is ok. This unit is slower than the other. The nurse takes longer to come to the phone. I asked all the questions about his vitals and recorded the numbers. Ensured the order for his food to go back in the bag is still in effect. He has not desaturated. He is doing ok. He has a private nurse in the room with him and is being watched 24 hours (all

Of a sudden this fucking place FINALLY Listens to me!!!!!!) 

72 hours to go until we are in the home stretch. 

All good things.

The cough is echoing in my chest, the protective coating of diseased phlegm expelled violently. My head hurts. My chest hurts. My body aches. I'm mad at myself. Mad at this POS body that is sick and keeping me from Jason. I wish I could Kick myself like Malfoy did to Dobie in Harry Potter. I have to make it 72 more hours and make sure Jason stays in one piece. Jason has 72 hrs to stay good. God please help me. Prayers are actively sought and begged for.

I Told You It Looks Like...

An 80's DOS machine...

Never A Dull Moment

Writing is calming. Sitting here forcing myself to put into words the craziest of moments to be unseen but read about by people who will hopefully never have to live this life.

As Enid would say: "I ain't about this life."

I am so not.

Ever saw "insidious"? That crazy black monster with the red tongue that hovered over the kid's bed? 

I imagine that is what is here with us right now. Knowing we have a 96 hour window where it can try and ruin my ticker tape parade on Monday. I am praying hard that God removes it and takes it away. I need a chorus more to make sure it goes away.

I ask you to pray, send good vibrations, release good Karma for my son. Whatever you can do please do! I need it! For my beautiful boy who can't catch a freakin' break.

The brilliant minds here at Columbia decided that Jason can come off his IV type peg feedings and can take 32 oz of fluids because his stomach expands. 

So, I am not a doctor. But let me try and intellectually digest this. If you or I have not eaten-for lets say-almost 2 months. How much fluid do you think you could binge drink in one sitting???

Far be it from me to quarrel with the brilliant minds at Columbia Presbyterian- ok I am lying because you know I lose my sanity quick in this place- BUT how comfortable would your stomach feel if you did not expand it for weeks and are forced 2-8 oz cans and 2-8 oz cups of water and medicine down your throat? 

Jason threw up. Not just that but projectile vomited all over me, himself and his bed. I felt weak until it happened, then with the strength I did not know I had I lifted him up and leaned him over the side of the bed to make sure nothing backed up in his throat. The nurse was suctioning him. Trying to take the pink ball of mucus that was playing peek-A-boo out of his new size 6 canular. Talks of the trach being gone started the downsize conversation that came to fruition just before I got here. THAT part of  the story is the GOOD NEWS. Smaller the canular closer to getting it out.

Centurion duty and I already saved his life. The nurse watching me and saying it's good I leaned him over to get it all out.

I am tired. My nerves are shot. I got 3 more days to live thru and already day 1 I am worried

he vomited into a lung.

I ain't about this life.

The Ties That Bind

From the minute he saw Samantha he wanted me to keep her. He kept addressing her as his sister even before the papers were drawn. Up until that point he was all the kid I could handle. I could not fathom having another high maintenance Jason with the midnight X-box game releases and the requests for crazy priced sneakers.

But he convinced me. Every day she was with us, that was his sister. His baby sister. Seeing how easily he could love her never being selfish about what she could take away from him made me so proud to be his mom. We had a baby who needed a home and without hesitancy Jason offered ours. 

When he met his baby brother I saw it again. That tenderness he showed for Samantha and the love for someone who could grow up and share crazy stories decades from now about his "crazy mom" and all the things she would do or say. There are two other people who can relate to how I ask questions and answer them in the same breath. Or how I seem to know everything because I track phones and still have child monitors laying around. They will imitate my walk, my laugh and my upset face . Mimicking in accurate detail my threats to beat their asses and laugh with their own kids one day about it.

They miss him. They know. He was coming home every weekend and now not at all. When they saw him in bed, they didn't get it. I know, but when they got home and more talk of Jason started I understood what happened. He is Samantha's go to when I scold her. He is Tristan's amusement park, that he can climb and jump on and wrestle with.

I know they miss him because I see him every single day and I do too.

My Beautiful Boy