I know. It's been a while. Please forgive. But just one week after McKay's cath, we checked back into a room on the third floor via the emergency room. McKay came down with para influenza--a nasty little virus that usually causes the croup. A big problem for little lungs that struggle to keep his system stable without other distractions. He spiked a high fever--103.5. We couldn't get him to sat any higher than 66 on 2 liters. It was scary--for about 6 hours. Then he stabilized.
We snuggled. He slept. I did not. He screamed at anyone and everyone that came within 10 feet. I wanted to (but did not).
His absolute refusal to cooperate and fiercely feisty attitude was enough to convince the doctors that he'd be just fine at home. I'm not sure who cried "uncle" first--the doctors or Mac--but the end result was the same. We were discharged with the promise to vigilantly monitor what would be the sure progression of the virus.
But this little fighter, whose spirit apparently runs as deep as his little comprised immune system, was over it. Indeed, that scary night was the beginning and the end of it. An occasional dry cough followed three days later and lasted only that long. It was over. I swear; this kid is such a fire drill.
In better news, we had the chance to squeeze in some long overdue family pictures last month.
And, oh, my sweet leader of the pack. You are a mother's dream. Proud. Proud. Proud.
Our crew is happy.