Monday, August 10, 2009
Will the good times take off?
Barely a week after my surgery, we were back in hospital. This time it was the (nearly) six-year old.
A niggling cough that nobody noticed because his younger brother had a full blown case of viral fever. A runny nose that meant nothing, because his nasal orifice has been running a marathon since the beginning of the monsoons. Fever that shot up with practically no notice. Febrile convulsions early in the morning, a rush to the emergency room.
Luckily my mother and father-in-law had come down to help during the surgery and recovery, so we were not short of helping hands as we had been the last time he had to be hospitalised. But since it is the third attack of convulsions in three years, the son needs to be put through a battery of tests to rule out epileptic convulsions.
The weekend I should have spent recuperating at home, was spent in hospital – I can only hope the lack of rest does not get to me later. The younger one is angsty because just when he got his mother back home, his best buddy disappeared. And of course, the older one doesn’t want to spend a day more in hospital, specially since the IV-line is on the hand he normally colours with.
But maybe, this is the end of the stream of bad luck. Maybe now the good times will take off like this plane I saw from the terrace of the hospital. I would like to hope so - after all, what have you left when you take away hope?