Day 4, DI, Steroids Kicking In
Read Day 3, Brudder’s post, if you haven’t . It touches people in a way that makes them comment. He is so subdued about receiving comments, but he is totally grooving on them.
Keep it up.
Yesterday he & I spent the entire day together at the dining room table talking about all sorts of things, like what linear means—oddly an incredible amount of fun. What I hope is that spending the time together, the publicity and comments will spur him to want to write better.
Now maybe it’s time to get a post from Isa. It would definitely be shorter.
Then again, maybe it isn’t a good time, considering she is taking the dexamethasone again. Already she feels heavier. Her belly is bulging out more and more, and her cheeks are following suit. Her temper most definitely has flared up. But, separating it her typical temper from her ‘roid rage proves difficult. The main difference is my reaction to it. Rather than freaking out, I am trying to be calm. Notice that I said trying. Because having a child on steroids tries my patience. Most who have experienced this will understand.
Currently, I should be out at the grocery buying Cherrios for the morning. It has become her favorite food. You may recall that during Induction she started sneaking Pickles from the ‘fridge. Now after every meal she dips her head and says in a quiet voice, “Mama, I’m still hungry.”
The dark circles are starting to appear under her eyes, but the extra weight is making her look so beautiful.
Today, I found a small scrape on her foot that had an infected look. You know the kind. A tiny scab that has a little bit of extra redness around it. So tonight she sat on the edge of the bathroom sink while I poured hydrogen peroxide over it, followed with some antibiotic ointment and every wound needs a Band-aid. She didn’t want me to touch it, but after I told her that this is the exact type of thing that could land us back in the hospital she let me.
Each morning and night when it is time for her medicine, I say, “Time to earn some stickers.” Every sticker/medicine gets her closer to the trip to the dancing store. If she balks, I threaten to take them away with a big red sharpie marker. One thing is certain. Our daughters trust me to do what I say I will. She has yet to lose a sticker!