The best part of my day

After a long day full of tests, doctors, pain, fevers, and general unhappiness, Patrick perked up for a little bit before I left the hospital for the day. We got the doctor to prescribe something stronger for his pain in hopes that he would be more comfortable and start moving some more. Andy had climbed into Patrick's crib and was reading him The Cat in the Hat (for the 4,345,478th time this week). Out of nowhere, our previously miserable, moaning boy began to smile, laugh, and read the book out loud with Dad. He had started talking a little bit early this morning, but it's been days since I've heard my sweet boy babble. We were so tickled that I tried to video it - all you see is darkness - but somehow, I think it's a video we'll hang onto.

The past week has been a rough one for all three of us. It reminds me of that scene in Office Space where Peter is talking about how every day is worse than the last, every day is the worst day of his life. What started out as an inconvenient Friday (frustrations with filling prescriptions, a pneumonia diagnosis) turned into a nightmare as I watched Patrick seize on the shoulder of Rte 50. Saturday looked to be better, but another ambulance ride and two seizures later made it even worse than Friday. Monday brought the end of the high fevers, but the beginning of a rash. Tuesday was the beginning of the lethargy and general miserable state that Patrick has been experiencing.

Now that we're six days into this ordeal, the fear of the seizures has faded... they pale in comparison to how awful it is to not know what is causing Patrick to feel so terrible each day and for us to be powerless to fix it. We have more tests and consults tomorrow, and I'm hoping that we'll be closer to a diagnosis - and treatment - before we head into the weekend. Andy and I have been overwhelmed by all of the love and support our family and friends have shown us. Thank you all for helping us through this rough patch.