Griffin went back to the ER on Wednesday afternoon. I think it was Wednesday. Was it Wednesday? Fuck if I can remember anymore, it was about 12 hours after he was discharged the last time.
ANYWAY, so back to the hospital we went. And a phone call to Aaron. Something along the lines of get your fucking ass home now.
So, hospital. Yeah, two IV bags later and they still wanted to admit him for 24 hours. Griffin begged to come home and the doctors allowed it after eight hours.
Aaron got home Thursday morning, six hours after Griffin was discharged and then I went to bed. I had been up over 48 straight.
Aaron brought home gifts.
And I deserved every last bumpily goodness of my Lego gifts. EVERY DAMN LAST ONE.
I think I need another nap.
(Apparently, Griffin has some funky stomach virus. In the beginning, the doctors thought he had an appendicitis. But now they don't think so [it's still not certain]. The funky stomach virus has not fever, no nothin' except for not making them eat and drink. And then they get dehydrated. And then they get constipated. Then they are in really bad pain from the constipation. Griffin didn't eat or drink anything for over three days. I guess this virus is going around, so if you notice a kid not eating and drinking, BRIBE THEM. I made Griffin all his favorites -- bacon, homemade french fries, strawberries -- and offered him all the contraband food you could imagine, Pepsi, popsicles, he was having NONE of it. Punk ass kid. But! He is better now! Not great, but better.)