I feel terrible for her nurse, too. The woman is sweet and kind and FABULOUS at her job. And every night, we are calling her up and telling her not to come into work the next day. It must be like winning a crappy lottery every night. Or hearing the worst joke ever. ( Riddle me this, who's gonna get to sleep in but miss a day's pay, AGAIN?) The school hired her through a temp agency, so I hope they can just send her to another assignment for the day. Hopefully, without said assignment being so fabulous we lose her over it. (Does that make selfish? Don't answer, I actually don't care... I love the way that nurse works with my child.)I shouldn't whine too much either, really. Feisty Pants is on the mend. The torrent of goop coming out of her face is now clear, not scary,icky colors. She is much more talkative (read that as bitching up a storm because we are tormenting her with our boringness.) She won't leave the cannula on for more than 30 seconds. These are all great signs in a medically fragile kid. If you have the energy to misbehave, you are feeling better. Not being a pain in the tush is a danger sign. They are either sick or plotting. Oh, but I cannot seem to get anything done around here. FP is literally tied to her O2 supply right now. If she is tied to the house, so am I. Normally I have no problem with that. I like the idea of spending my days in my backyard or just strolling my neighborhood. But the second the choice is out my hands, I turn into Feisty Pants and hate it. What if I wanted to hike the Himalayas or walk to Macchu Pichu? (You don't know. I could too want that.) The work around just seems to be piling up too. I swear the Universe thinks "Aha, she's NOT hiking the Himalayas this week. Let's send a million more emails that seem urgent until she opens them. And break something easily fixable, but time consuming.That way she won't be bored."
It also doesn't help that weather has been strange all week. Too hot at night too sleep with the windows closed. Too rainy to sleep with them open. (It's OCTOBER, Universe, where are my chilly, creepy, ghostly nights??) So I am tired and cranky on top of it all. Poor Feisty Pants, she really is stuck in the house with miserable, cranky old farts. She needs to get better and plot her escape.