One of the things about being in a funk is that you don't know how deep and funky that funk is until you get out of it. And then you can look back and go, "Whoa! That was a deep funky funk, and I am SO GLAD to be out of it."
In fact, I am so glad to be emerging from the post-second-hospital-trip-for-Bridget funk that I am using "you" when I write which usually drives my crazy because I don't actually mean You, dear reader. I mean ME.
ANYHOO, Yeah! I feeling like me again for the first time in, oh, 6 3/4 weeks (i.e., since June 5) when Bridget went into the hospital for the second time. And honestly, the reality of everything didn't even hit me until she got out, so it's been a short 5 1/2 week funk. BUT IT HAS NOT BEEN FUN. Fun-ky. It does not mean "Fun in Kentucky."
The funk did not originate from actually being in the hospital. For the most part, two out of our three hospital visits have been funky free. It was this last time, when things got so bad and weird so quickly that Funky made an appearance.
Ok. Can we stop with the funky theme? I'm not a skilled enough writer to keep that going.
What has been tough is knowing that Bridget's
atelectasis is probably going to come back. And we may be back in the hospital again. When I write that (outside of the pit of funk), it doesn't seem that bad. But for much of the time since her diagnosis thinking about that has been very scary for me.
I think my emotions and my rationality have finally called a truce so that I am more secure that we will stay on top of this when she gets a cold again. We'll be doing all her treatments and we, along with her teachers, will be monitoring her oxygen levels to make sure she's at a healthy level. Really, that's all I've been waiting for--for my emotional side to stop hyperventilating enough to trust my rational side that we will always be on top of Bridget's colds. We may have a few setbacks (sort of like learning about Christopher's asthma means), but we are going to be on top of this. Eventually. Mostly. Much of the time. ((pant, pant, pant, fluttering of hands in front of face))
And of course, my even keeled Midwestern husband even has a few mild reactions like drolly noting when Bridget awoke with a runny nose yesterday, "Most parents don't panic when their daughter gets a cold." We, on the other hand, evaluate the amount of snot in her nose, make her cough and evaluate how "wet" it is, monitor her oxygen level, and start her back on saline and her shaky vest.
So yes. Mostly better. MUCH better actually. Slowly but surely, we are getting back to normal. And that feels awfully nice.
