And here we arrive at the final chapter of the great health scare of 2024.
Well, the first one anyway…
We are going to highlight Friday and Sunday in this post, as they were the days of fun and adventure… and the rest were filler days. LOL
The ambulance arrived at the hospital I would be admitted into. The doors opened and a burst of WARM air hit me.
Y’all. You know me! It was February… and it was warm! I was not happy at all. I looked up at the paramedic and mentioned the temperature. It wasn’t fair! It’s warm outside and I’m stuck to a gurney going into a hospital for God knows how long!
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be nice for a few days! Then, cold again.” She said as they wheeled my gurney from the truck to the doors of the ER.
I was too miserable to be upset for long, though. I had been bleeding for weeks, I was barely alert, and I had several feet of gauze shoved up where things don’t need to be shoved to slow the flow of blood.
To shorten the ER part of this tale, I will say that the Dr’s came in, OBGYN department knew I was coming and they knew I was “packed” and they were furious. The first thing they did after drawing yet more blood from my person was get that hot mess out of my body.
And when they did…
Red Niagara! For minutes! And then, Red Lake Michigan (or whatever large body of water) …
Everyone in there was like, “Oh my… whoa. Ok… more blood for you!”
It was then explained to me that my bleeding was internal… and it needed a place to go. So, if the “exit” from my body was closed off, it would start finding other places inside to retreat to. Not good, apparently.
Thankfully, Mom made it there to sit with me during my torture and torment shortly after I arrived in the ambulance. She got all the kiddos ready and off to their respective school destinations before following me up to the hospital.
By now, it’s mid-morning on Friday. I’m exhausted. Depleted. Have nothing left to give, at all. In more ways than one! They got me all set up and sent up to surgery floor for my stay while they decided exactly what was going to be done about my “unique situation” as they called it so many times.
Finally in my room on the 4th floor, I get to meet my nurses for the first time. A time of enormous discomfort for myself, and lots of sympathy for them from me as well.
I was soaked, not functional, unable to even sit up on my own at this point. I tried… gosh I tried! They had to clean me up as soon as I arrived, change my bed, my clothes, put an adult diaper thingy on me because the hemorrhaging was NOT letting up at all, and try to do it ALL while I’m laying in this bed!
Y’all. These nurses got skills!
After the magic they performed getting me and my bed changed out while I was still in it, they were able to reach out to my OBGYN to see if they were going to take out the baby growing system that day. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in 24 hours. Mama was living off whatever was going into my body via IV tubes.
While we waited for word from the Docs, I got set up with more blood, iron infusions, and some other concoction via IV bags to give me some sort of nutrients.
I also got to meet lots of nurses, techs, lab personnel, some student doctors, and other people who apparently couldn’t wait to see the “unique situation” that was in room 409.
Fast forward to that afternoon. The doctor came in and explained how he determined best to handle my situation.
“Between a rock and a hard place” was used to describe me multiple times by all the people I encountered.
My Dr referred to me as “Interesting”, “unique”, “complicated”, and other things as well.
So, let’s review my situation:
I have blood clots in my lungs. I am bleeding. A lot! The bleeding needs to stop. But the concern is the clots… which is as bad (and could be worse). Both needs treated/fixed. But, given that one is total opposite of the other… only one can be treated/fixed at a time.
It was determined that I would be having an ablation procedure to try to slow/stop the bleeding. I would have to be taken off my blood thinners for 2 days prior to the surgery, if possible, but if the bleeding got worse 1 day would do if absolutely necessary.
Every decision maker in my medical case determined that a hysterectomy would make my already difficult situation worse and wanted to do the least alteration possible to my body, get me back on the blood thinners, and on the road to recovery ASAP.
With the plan in place, it was determined that I could finally EAT!
Y’all… I ate whatever they could bring me! Sandwiches, chips, yogurts, crackers, all of it! I munched on those wonderful ice chips that hospitals have for hours in complete bliss!
That evening, a dear friend of my mom and I came to see me and bring a cute flower with a balloon on it to brighten my room. We chatted, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. I remained reclined safely in my bed as any time I would even try to sit up without the bed lifting me my heartrate would jump into the 120’s. Everyone saw it. I was hooked up to all these monitors so they could see anytime my heartrate jumped at the nurse’s desk.
So, that prefaced my next part of the story…
While we were chatting, one of my WONDERFUL nurses came into the room to see if I could get up to go to the bathroom. A: I felt like I needed to and told them so, and B: they needed to see if I could stand on my own two feet.
I could not…
I got up, made it to the bathroom, and mind you I had been doing this at home for two weeks already, not realizing how BAD it was for me to do so…
I make it to the bathroom. I’m dizzy. But man, I had to PEE! So, I start trying to “do my thing” and I hear a phone ring in my room.
Yeah… that was the nurses desk calling my charge nurse to see if I was ALIVE at this point, because (unbeknownst to me) my heart rate was 155 and my BP had bottomed out waaaaaay below readings of anyone who is conscious.
I opened the bathroom door, took one look at my nurse and said, “Yeah… this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t feel well.”
My mother and our dear friend were in the room, eyes fixated on the monitors. My mother’s face was probably as white as mine at this point, obviously not for the same reason, and they were both immobile as the nurse guided me back to my bed.
I collapsed there, dizzy, nauseous, clammy, sweaty, and barely alert at this point.
It took a few minutes for my brain and my body to communicate to each other that I was back in bed and my heart could settle down. But once they did things got a little better by the minute.
More blood. More iron. More blood taken from me to see my counts.
Days of poking, testing, poking, testing, more poking again…
The ablation was done on Sunday morning. I was out for a bit, procedure completed. Pain. Lots of pain. Anxiety and fear that the procedure wouldn’t work. Paranoia. Depression. I missed my kids… a lot!
Thankfully, I had some yarn and my crochet hook with me while I was enjoying my stay at hotel Memorial Hospital. My bestie came to sit and visit the day before I was discharged. She brought her yarn and hook as well, and we got to sit and crochet, sip coffee, and chat about all the happy things in life. It was an uplifting moment during a time when the walls were closing in!
The day I was discharged a dear friend came to visit and bring me coffee. She got to be my ride home, and boy was I GLAD to escape back to my home and my kiddos! That ride home was another uplifting moment in a dark time! We laughed together, caught up with each other on life, and she got to be a witness to another small miracle in my life that will be for another post, another day. I will say this, God’s timing is most definitely impeccable!
Fast forward to today:
The ablation did work. It took months for the effects of the blood clots and then the heavy bleeding to finally fall away, and I do still have some every now and then. But I am doing so much better today than I was 5 months ago!
The support I have received through these months has been amazing! Thank you all for keeping me in thoughts and prayers, and lending assistance while we walked this crazy road!
Ok, so we are picking up where we left off with the previous post.
I was sent home and a few days later my period started. Or at least we THINK it was my period.
And I bled…
And bled…
And for more than a week I bled…
And FINALLY on day 10, I figured something might be wrong, as it was getting worse instead of better after 7 days. It was getting worse.
I wasn’t just “bleeding” per say, I was hemorrhaging…to death. I just didn’t realize it at the time.
I called my mom to let her know something was up and I probably needed to go back to the ER. First, I knew I was low on fluids and dehydrated, so I figured if I went to the ER they would give me some fluids and do some tests, maybe keep me another day or two for observation again, and send me home.
I was very, VERY wrong.
What made it worse was that Rayne was still up when I left. It was pretty early in terms of nighttime hours, but Asher was in bed when he was supposed to be. Rayne, in her typical fashion, was determined to beat us all in terms of staying up late.
Rayne stood next to the door and said, “Where are you going Mommy?”
I gave her a hug and said “I’m just going to the doctor baby. I’ll be back.”
She held my neck super tight and said, “So you’re coming back to us?”
Y’all… that hit me hard. I knew something was up in my body. I just didn’t know how bad it truly was.
But in my heart of hearts I knew I was going to come back home. So, I told her so.
“Yes spanky. I’m coming right back. I just need to see the doctor first, okay? Will you go to sleep for bubby tonight?”
And she let me go, bouncing around on the couch all excited about being home with her teenage brothers. “Okay mommy! I’ll go to sleep later!”
And I walked out the door……….
Mom and I had short conversations about stuff on the way to the ER: Kids, the possible outcomes of the ER visit, Rayne asking me if I was coming right back… my mommy heart was aching. But my body was exhausted!
We got there and the receptionist asked who was there and what for. I told them I had been there previously for the other issue and that something was very wrong because I’m bleeding, and it wasn’t stopping.
My heart rate was through the roof. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t breathe, but I was on blood thinners so the lung issue was better… however the breathing trouble combined with the heart rate… (it was 144 merely after standing up from my bed and taking a few steps) they knew something was not right.
God bless those nurses! They were the same ones who saw me 13 days prior, as was the doctor!
We kept it pretty light-hearted for the most part, throughout the visit. Jokes were made about “Next time you wanna see us this bad, lets do lunch or something!” and “I’d prefer to see you at Wal-Mart instead of here!” And we all had some good giggles throughout.
There was talk about lung issues continuing even with the blood thinners, due to damage, long term effects of Covid, etc., UNTIL… the blood results came back.
The poor Dr came into the room and said, “Remember all those things I said about your lungs earlier?”
I held my breath… “Yeah?”
“So, forget all of that. You have lost a LOT of blood, and you are bleeding to death… slowly.”
Fan-Tastic…
So, they set me up with two transfusions right there in the ER while we waited for more instructions and direction as to what was about to happen with me.
I’m already a hot mess, hearing that I’m just slowly leaking life right out of myself, my child was worried about me not coming home that night and here I was, lying in a bed with liquid life starting to flow through me from another source… not knowing if I was going home anytime soon or not.
Doc comes back later and says I’m going to be transported to the hospital where my OBGYN performs surgeries, and I will be looking at a possible emergent hysterectomy!
The only issue (not a small one either) is that, in my county, there is only one ambulance that runs between 11pm and 7am. So… I have to lay in agony and frustration, and my own blood no less, until 7am to be transported.
THEN………. To make matters even MORE interesting. The doc comes in and says, “we are going to pack (your area) to prevent more hemorrhaging until you get to your destination.”
Yall…
You guys…
I will spare you all the horrid details of that portion of the night. But I will say that the morphine shot I got afterwords was a GODSEND!!
That shot, however, did not make it into my veins until about 20 minutes prior to my transport to the next destination. So… I was suffering for some time prior. Much time.
I tell my mom to go get some sleep, because the coming day is going to SUCK for everyone, and she goes home to rest in her recliner for a couple of hours until it was time for her to get all my kiddos ready for school.
I didn’t rest at all. I was struggling. Physically, mentally, emotionally… I was a hot mess!
What was happening to me? Why was this happening to me? Would I get better? I had no idea. And I had no idea when I would see my kiddos again. I even laid there wondering IF I would see them again!
Dark places, that’s where my mind went.
Finally, the hour of my transport came. Thankfully the medics moving me were people I knew from my work as a police officer in the past. It was a good ride… the morphine helped my disposition for the journey, I’m sure. LOL
I got lots of well-wishes from the staff in the ER as I was being prepped to roll out. We were all becoming such good friends… haha!!
I went in trying to assure them I’m not a “frequent flyer” and I left with all the best wishes and prayers following me that I could ever imagine getting. Gosh, what a wonderful crew! All of them!!
The ride to the next hospital was fun, entertaining, and full of “catching up” with old friends. We had good times.
Getting to the next ER was good. The temperature outside was GLORIOUS at our arrival. I made jokes about getting this bad on the worst day possible. I just wanted to sit outside. Not lay in some gurney in an ER awaiting my fate…
But wait, I did. In a tiny room at the backside of a hospital far from my kids, my home, my family, my work, all of the things that I do daily.
And part 3 will end this blog saga of my health scare of 2024… the first one anyway…
I miss activities, adventures, groups, friends, connections, etc.
Last night there was a football game at our high school. I have two boys who attend that school.
We did not go…
Last year, one of my sons expressed great interest in joining the football team, even took some steps to get there…
All the forward movement was halted when he had a sports physical that resulted in questions about his progress in puberty. He is less than three months from his fifteenth birthday.
There is no puberty.
Never was.
No signs of it even starting.
Instead, there is a nonactive tumor squishing his pituitary gland.
This is not about that, though. That is an entirely different story in itself.
This is about missing out… and trying to figure out why, how, and if we can fix this problem.
Yes, I’m being transparent here.
There’s a lot to say. There’s a lot to be transparent about.
Why? Because I know I’m NOT the only one who struggles with this, exact issue regarding “missing out.”
Let’s go back a few years (Okay maybe a decade or more…) when I was an active member of society.
I had high hopes and dreams for a future with kids in sports, clubs, doing all the things I was able to do as a child and even more! Cub Scouts, Sunday School, youth groups, school sports, little league sports, all the things.
Life threw a curve ball here and there… well, it threw a LOT of them.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone gets curve balls thrown at them! Again, major reason we are being transparent here…
I’m not special. My struggles are not “bigger than yours” but everyone handles every level of stress, negative life events, loss, and betrayals differently.
Me? Yeah… I hid from the world.
Long story short, a decade of less-than-healthy choices (both external and internal choices) lead me to isolating myself.
I was sad when those close to me didn’t get involved with the things I was so excited about for my kids. I was overworked being the only one who took them to events, helped with homework, projects, socializing them, etc. I was already struggling with my own depression and to add burn-out to the pile just shut me down.
And shut down I remained… for a solid three years. Minimum.
I hid myself and my family from the world.
I was tired of hearing falsehoods about myself and my family from people who didn’t even know me.
I was tired of being seen at the grocery store and then hearing a whole, new rumor about myself a week later from “concerned friends.”
I was tired of carrying a label. I was “the bad guy” in a lot of things. Everywhere I turned I didn’t see “friends” anymore. I saw spies. I saw liars. I saw betrayal at every turn.
Eventually, I stopped seeing anything good.
My vision was murky with pain, heartache, anxiety, depression, loss, and eventually… full-blown bitterness.
Bitter Becca. That’s what I dubbed myself.
Yep. I did. I wore my own title like a badge and shield.
It has taken me years to grow from the little, broken roots that I was cut down into.
Four years, to be exact.
I would take a step forward and then two steps back over the course of the past four years. Sometimes I would break even, and I would get so excited! Then another step back.
Of my 5 children, two are in special education classes. I have often wondered if I could have done something to prevent this from happening for them. Was it me? Did I not work hard enough to get them through to a higher level?
They don’t have many friends, limited to the ones secluded in these classrooms with them for their entire academic life.
My one, school-aged child who is not in such classes struggles with depression (possibly related to the puberty issue? We don’t really know), also very few friends, and the inability to follow through with many things. Again, I sit and wonder if I have ‘less-than-succeeded’ with him as well.
I lived years without taking my kids into society. School was it. They never asked to go to games, events, trips, etc.
My oldest did go to a couple of dances during Junior High, before Covid stole that from us. To see his face light up the way it did when he got home, telling stories about how fun the music was, learning some cool moves, the snacks and drinks they got to enjoy made my heart so glad.
Sometimes I wonder how that could be 4 years ago…
I sit in my bed, unable to sleep many nights, and reflect on things. I write in my journal, make lists in my notebooks, read books and my Bible, scroll FB and watch a world around me be social and active, and I have cried.
Not tears of depression.
Tears of fear. Actual Fear.
Because I want to go. I want to get out there.
But I have come so far mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually in my little isolated space that the thought of stepping out and ending up with another “step back” wrenches my gut!
My family, and my few, close friends can tell stories of me being excited about a thing and then talking myself out of it within minutes.
I want to be involved. I want my kids to be involved.
I’m just trying to figure out how to push past my fear. Fear that developed a lack of interest, motivation, and increased avoidance of public places and events.
My fears used to be focused solely on people talking. Over time it just became a fear of people, period.
I will say that I am happy Child #3 expressed interest in participating in the Labor Day Parade last week with his aunt. And he obviously had a blast!
My oldest expressed a renewed interest in music last night. Band, specifically.
In elementary school he wanted to be in the band. He struggled with the multi-step instructions and music reading, resulting in his not being given that desired opportunity.
He mentioned it again last night as we watched the band prepare for the football game.
My boys attend an e-sports group after school on some days, and yesterday happened to be one. As I was picking them up, people were arriving to the school to prepare for the game.
I mean… is it too late? Is he too old? Did I cause him to lose out on opportunities in life? These are questions I ask myself at night when I am alone in my room.
Can I turn some things around, upside right, and build us up from where we stand today?
I think I can one minute and then I question myself the next.
So, here in my transparent moment, I want to step up and step out.
Maybe the next football game, I won’t talk myself out of going.
Take a step. And then take another.
Someone recently told me that first steps are hard, and she is right. But they are necessary to keep going forward.
And like a baby learning to walk, I took my first ones a little shaky.
If there is anyone out there who is struggling, whether it be anxiety like me, addiction, depression, fear, or anything…
Just know I’m taking some first steps too.
We can start together.
And… we can make it to the top together.
I almost feel super pumped right now. Haha!
I just want to raise my fist in the air today and say “by golly I’m going to socialize! In person!”
And when I finally do… I’ll let you know how it goes. 😊
Thank you for enduring my transparent moment for the day.
The end of the Covid Journey has finally come for the children! The time has come to open windows, doors, pull out the Lysol, Clorox, Fresheners, SCENTSY WAX AND WARMERS, and room sprays! Brooms, mops, laundry detergent, and varying soaps abound!
Now, for all of you who know me well… my house might get clean one room at a time… but once I move to the next room, the previous will be dirty all over again. Sometimes because I’m that slow getting there, but mostly because my tiny tornadoes are that quick at “normalizing” my freshly sparkled surfaces! Haha!
Cleaning and sanitizing aside, I know everyone wants to know how the household is faring thus far…
Titus lost his sense of taste and smell for a total of 24 hours, and had SLIGHT body cramping for about 6 hours. All in the same day. He’s been fine since.
Micah was pretty much out of the woods by the day after they tested. His chief complaint was his throat, and it was pretty bad. He did have the cough for a few days, and several nights through the night. Other than that, he never ran a fever, never had any other issues, and is doing QUITE well now!
Rayne… same as Titus as far as outward issues. She did have a scratchy voice for several days, and acted like she was hurting “somewhere” for about 48 hours.
Asher had the nastiest poo diapers anyone has ever seen in this family for about 5 days! Y’all… it was GROSS!! He bounced back from that, and a slight nighttime cough for a few nights, and has been on top of the world (but under Rayne) ever since!
I never tested positive… but I was sick. Who knows if I actually had it or not, but I was just as bad as Micah for several days. And, given that EVERYONE else in my house had Covid… I think I had false negatives. But I digress…
Levi is coming back to his own on a gradual pace. He was released to go back to school Monday, and when he got home Monday afternoon he crashed… hard. He slept the entire afternoon, evening, and then off and on the whole night into Tuesday morning. He has a very slight lingering cough, nothing rough. His voice still sounds raspy and congested. But overall, he’s improved greatly!
My darling grandmother doesn’t have Covid either… but her annual bronchitis has made its glorious return to her life, and she’s getting better by the day with her medication and PLENTY of outdoor time! Because… what’s going to stop Granny from going outside and working in her flowers?
Yeah… exactly.
Today was the first day I was able to work from home with no kids here until 3pm. I almost didn’t know what to do with myself! I had to turn up some music to cover the silence that was all around me! I got laundry done during breaks, and cleaned the dining room, living room, and hallway during lunch. It was glorious!!
Tonight everyone is already in their beds and it’s not even 8:30pm!
WHAT?!
YES!!!
Part of me wants to crawl into my bed and sleep so badly…
Part of me also wants to get a few more things done around the house that I know are necessary as well.
I can’t tell you which part will win tonight. I’m just going to take some time to be extremely thankful that we went through this tunnel with the ease and grace that we did! It could have been A LOT worse!
But it wasn’t.
And I am just sooooo thankful!
I don’t think I want to look at another bottle of Gatorade for a very long time.
I KNOW I don’t want to see, smell, or taste cough syrup again for a LONG time either!
But I am NOT tired of soup!
And we had lots of soup!
In fact, we are doing Chili tomorrow night. At the request of the kiddos!
Ah… children after my own heart!
Until the next time, my friends!
Thank you all for the thoughts and prayers! They worked!
~B~
Ps. Next time we will have a little chat about my fridge going out while we were quarantined… THAT was fun…
It’s 11pm on day… 8 for two of us and day 5 for the rest… I think?
Anyway, here is the update I have the energy for tonight…
We just won’t talk about me until tomorrow night.
Titus was totally a-symptomatic until today. He woke up sore all over and started taking Motrin and Tylenol on a timed schedule all day and seems to be fine this evening. Yay!
Micah is improving. He still has a raggedy cough now and then, and is taking the medication accordingly.
Rayne has a raspy voice, and the gross poo issue.
Asher has had a HORRID diaper rash for two days and he was feverish yesterday. He’s better today.
Levi…
Levi is my concern.
Levi barely leaves his bed except to use the bathroom or get something to drink. He hasn’t eaten food in 24 hours. He was “better” three days after his symptoms started, but as of yesterday (day 7) he started to sink a bit. We are hoping he doesn’t tank on us here…
From the reports I have received from others who’s children his age have had it, they tanked around days 8-10 and it was rough. I’m hoping I’m seeing the worst with him now.
We have cone all we can to keep it at bay, only to get it. And now we are doing all we know to do to keep it as mild as possible.
I’m still working, because the state isn’t giving us Covid time off anymore, as of earlier this month. So I’m doing this whole mess while working from home as well…
Fun times!
Just continue keeping us in your prayers and I’ll hopefully have better news as we continue on this journey.
The little o2 sensor thing has come in handy, to say the least. The medicine is flowing freely. The ice machine is getting a workout like nobody’s business! We have consumed at least 7 containers of Gatorade, several bottles of Body Armor, at least 4 gallons of home-made sweet tea, and countless cups of water and ice over the past few days…
We spend as much time as possible in the sunlight (when the sun is shining, and we are awake simultaneously).
I have made 4 different types of soup so far, and only two of them ended up in the freezer or fridge later for leftovers.
I think the toddlers will kick it faster than anyone, because they are mobile and wreaking havoc all over my house every waking hour. So we are good there. The diaper rash issue is a thing, but likely because of the lack of milk, and the increase in other types of fluids due to the risk of dehydration.
Micah will kick it, too. I am confident he is on the upward trend from it all.
Who knows about Titus… he is a mystery with ANY viral anything. Haha!
Keep Levi in your prayers. His upward rise from this is going to be much slower than anyone’s unless he surprises me and just springs from it in a day… which would be GREAT in my book!
Ok… I’m going to crash while I’m awake enough to remember where my bed is.
As far as I know thus far, two have tested positive in my household for Covid.
Now, as everyone knows, I have been trying to put together some other blog posts, which I will complete as I can and post accordingly, but I want to also share with you our Covid Journey.
Because everyone’s journey is different. Even if they are all in the same household!
So…
We do not know FOR SURE where we were exposed, and I will NOT say one place or another. We were simply exposed over the weekend last week. That is all.
Tuesday Levi complained of not feeling well at school (which is his norm anyway… school + Levi = sickness) *insert rolled eyes*.
Wednesday Micah was sent home from school with swollen tonsils.
Thursday neither of them were feeling well and were tested.
Friday: The results came in. Positive for Covid.
Saturday: the rest of the family was tested.
As far as symptoms…
Levi is the worst.
He has a nasty cough, no energy, low grade fever, can’t taste anything, can’t breathe all that great, and sleeps off and on all day and night.
Micah is already starting to feel better. But I am keeping an eye on him.
I feel… well… How can I even describe how I feel???
It’s a typical day for me with a little extra rough and yuck.
I have Fibromyalgia so I feel like I am having a flare up week with a little extra gross in between.
Yesterday (Saturday) Asher started acting like he might not be feeling well. Today he is about the same. No major changes thus far.
Rayne is great. She’s a beast! So is her carbon copy older brother Titus. Nothing there either.
In fact… let me share with you what Titus did last night!
So… we ALL know my kids are prone to the “interesting and odd” behaviors, and Titus is the firstborn, so he’s expected to lead in such things. Last night he did NOT disappoint!
He walked into the kitchen with a can of Lysol in his hand and said, “Hey mom. Wanna see how I protect myself from the rona?”
I turn from my dishes I was angrily washing at the time and said, “Uhm, Ok? What do you do?”
He proceeds to pop the cap off the Lysol, take a deep breath, close his eyes, and SPRAY IT ALL OVER HIMSELF from head to toe without missing a beat!!!
I stood in total shock, speechless, for a few seconds before shouting, “Titus! What are you doing?!?”
To which he cheerfully responded, “What? I’m making sure I don’t get it! Better safe than sorry!” Put the bottle on top of the fridge, turned on his heel, and skipped off through the house whistling a happy tune!
This is the point where I feel I must add that I AM NOT AN EXPERT PARENT! Hahaha!
So, other than Titus and his odd antics, the rest of us are doing decent thus far.
No fevers, no chills, and none of the “severe” Covid symptoms so far. Mostly the gross flu-like symptoms for everyone. And I hope that is the worst it gets.
We are treating our symptoms. Cough medicines, Motrin, Tylenol, all the vitamins and mineral supplements, LOTS OF WATER, some body armor drinks, Gatorade, orange juice, and so on. I’ve also made sure everyone spends some time in the sunlight outside as well. My hope is that we kick it together like the strong little tribe we have become over the past few years.
I must also add, before I end this post, that I am PROUD of my kids! They are troopers! They are strong! They have battled through so much in their young lives, and have come out on the other side as little warriors! And this Momma is super thrilled at the amazing abilities they have shown in the times of adversity and yuck. Every night when I lay in my bed I am beyond thankful for the blessings that are my kiddos! Gosh… I’m so blessed!
And with that, I will keep you all posted as we trudge through this, another of many tunnels we have endured, and how we fare through the yuck and gunk, and how we come out on the other side!
