Monday, November 07, 2005

"You need to come back to the Hospital". Again.

Surprised? Me too.

In my mind, it started with Halloween, although The Twinkie finally admitted that it had begun before then. Halloween just happened to be the night that she couldn't hold it in anymore.

Twinks had begun to hurt again. She didn't want to tell us; flush with excitement from her triumphant return to school (more about that later) she wanted to *keep going*. She was afraid that if we knew she was hurting that we would pull her out of school, or pull out the wheelchair.

Instead, we called The Hospital, and across the miles came those words that I know so well, and dread so much:

"You need to come back to The Hospital".


I had this crazy dream - this hope - that we could go until our next scheduled appointment, which was for Valentines Day 2006. Not a terribly *romantic* way to spend the day, but The Wrench would be working that evening anyway, so it isn't like we had to cancel plans. Nineteen years of marriage to this man has taught me that he would find a way to make the day special for me, no matter how many miles separated us; and I had already begun my stealthy little plan to surprise him in my absence. So the focus of that day was to be The Twinkie. She is our all; she is a little bit Wrench, a little bit Thim. She is what adds the sweetness to any day for her Daddy and I - a child so loving, so tenderhearted and so precious that she makes Cupid look like a slacker. It was never a question between the The Wrench and I about "what would we do" about Valentine's Day. We can reschedule any holiday. We can't replace our daughter.

She lost two days of school this past week because she was hurting so badly. Tomorrow morning, we'll go back to The Hospital, and begin anew the search for a way to make the pain go away.

So here we are again. Our favorite hotel; the usual room, our routine varies little. It's been 8 weeks today since we were here last - six of those were wonderfully, gloriously pain-free for our Twinkie.

Here's hoping that in the morning, we'll find a bit of magic, a little luck, and that the Doctor and Big J in O & P will work another minor miracle. Maybe we'll get another six weeks - and if that's how we have to do this, then we will. Six weeks at a time.

In the meantime, I have to try and sleep; 5:30 am comes all too soon.

No comments: