St. Lucy buns and Mass in the morning, hospital at night. You never know how things are going to shake out. Your kid wakes you early because he's wheezing a little, and you think, No biggie. We have a nebulizer, thank you very much, right here in our very own kitchen. Seven hours and three nebulizer treatments later, the kid is not only still wheezing, but actually panting as he tells you, "I have to breathe fast to get any air." Um, okay. We have a nebulizer right here in our very own kitchen, and it has failed us.
So anyway, here we are. By now it's not just Helier and me, but also Aelred and Crispina, who had gone to work with her daddy today, and the nurses are asking which of the kids they can take home, and Crispina is begging to go home with Tammy, who has horses at her house and makes jewelry out of horsehair. Helier offers the information that he once felt his heart beating in his foot, but nobody's taking him home, entertaining though he is, because he can't breathe.
Shortly Crispina and I will go home, to our own regrettably horsehair-jewelry-free house, and Aelred will be here all night with Breathless Boy. Crispina is wishing that she could spend the night in the hospital someday. Aelred has advised her to go to a nice hotel instead, but as she points out, in a hotel you don't get to ride in wheelchairs or wear a hospital gown, and the beds don't go up and down.
Anyway, that's the news from here.