I'm trying to ignore that appointment in my day timer for next Monday.
The one for Trevy's 48 hour in-patient (boo) EEG.
Because it means we'll be imprisoned in a teensie weensie hospital room until our captors (I totally call them worse behind their backs) decide to release us.
I'm trying to ignore that it's less than a week away now but every time I open up my stinking planner – there it is.
Glaring at me.
I’ve been trying to distract myself. Playdates and Pinterest only work for so long though.
I’ve been giving myself zero wiggle room for rescheduling. Hence, his “peacock” this week. I’m too much of a tight wad to pay for a haircut only to cancel the point of the haircut.
I’ve been telling myself that we’re lucky. Count your blessings and stuff. Lucky that Grams and PopPop can keep the big kids for us. Because the only thing worse than being stuck in a hospital room for two days is being stuck in a hospital room for two days with THREE bored and crabby kids! I’ve been convincing myself that we’re lucky he (pretty much) only needs one EEG a year now. I remember the days when we were lucky to make it six months without an admission. Lucky that I haven’t seen any more clusters involving more than his face. Lucky this – lucky that. Blah blah blah.
The fact is…it stinks.
No matter how much I try to ignore or pep talk myself.
It’s just another reminder that even though Trevy has come such a long, wonderful way…
we will always be the family that knows the nooks and crannies and nuisances of the children’s hospital. Multiple children’s hospitals, actually.
I don’t want to be that family.
Even if I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’m flakey like that. Always emotionally/spiritually at war with loving what is and yet wishing it different.
All the while trying to ignore that appointment next week until it’s over and done.