Okay, so I’ve missed more than one post in NaBloPoMo. And I might have not told the whole truth as to why.

Mom is still in the hospital. It’s been a week as of Sunday. Her pneumonia / infection showed signs of improvement, then it didn’t. She’s going backwards. Whatever antibiotics / anti-fungals / anti-everythings that being given to her aren’t working. Tests are coming back with nothing. The fever goes away for several hours, then comes raging back. They’ve put her on oxygen and then increased it so that she gets an appropriate amount in her bloodstream to keep all the organs healthy. The doctors have no answers and – here we are again – a weekend with the primary doctors out of touch or not rounding.

Sometimes I hate healthcare.

Dad is exhausted. Mom is worn out and scared. And I am, for the first time, uncomfortable with what’s going on.

As morbid as it sounds, I am fully prepared for her to succumb to myeloma. It makes sense. It’s an insidious disease that will eventually run its course. We know that.

But that’s supposed to be years from now.

I am completely unprepared for her to be a victim of something that stemmed from a treatment AGAINST myeloma.

I look at The Swimmy and think, “Please, G-d, don’t make me have to tell her something horrible. She’s only five. Let her know Dodi for awhile longer. Let her have as many grandparents as she can. Please don’t make me break her heart like this.”

Then I look at Benjamin and think, “Please, G-d, let him know Dodi. Don’t just let him learn about her from other people. Give him the chance The Swimmy got. Give Dodi the chance to know him. Please don’t break both their hearts.”

Please.