Last Monday, Emery had his stomach scoping. It was scary but he came out of it all well and good and Tuesday morning Aaron hopped on a plane to Chicago 'cause it's Business Trip Season as in, hopefully we'll see him a few days a month between now and the New Year.
Businesses take heed: we'd appreciate if you would budget better and not decide to do all your work during the holiday season
Wednesday early morning I woke with Emery and felt awful but convinced myself it was in my head... a couple of hours later the allergist told me to call 911 (eh, breathing problems were involved) and instead I took a pain pill to deal with it all later in the day.
A few hours later I was in ambulance apologizing for being dramatic while the EMTs freaked out over my low pulse ox readings and ma'am, would you like some morphine? No thanks, I don't want to be dramatic.
Heh.
After a few tests, with my dad fretting in the ER with me (he simply does not do well in hospitals) (and my stepmom was home with all the boys), I was admitted. More tests over. Really, I swear - the pain was going to stop soon.
A visit from a good friend (who pulled my hair back while I was sick, oh how hospitals can be so humbling), and a nuclear test later they were certain - my gallbladder had "died" and needed to come out.
Hand to heaven, that's what the surgeons and nurses said, died.
Aaron's swift return home. Surgery. Recovery. It's all blur.
Truth is, I've felt off for quite awhile - but chalked it all up to having a sleepless toddler (2am is prime Party Time, doncha know), with a variety medical problems we're trying to figure out.
Speaking of which, the pathology reports from Emery's scope came back and he has Eosinophilic Esophagitis, which explains his constant puking-of-real-food-but-only-rarely-his-special-formula.
So. sigh. New medicine starting this weekend. More scoping in a few months. Hoping to work with therapies that he can grow and begin eating like a normal child and not (nearly-worst-case scenario) needing a feeding tube in his belly.
I mean, really. Really. This isn't suppose to be a medical blog.
