I've been trying to come up with a post for a while, but we're still recovering from the crap. He's been to school this week, and seemed to be getting better, having one brief episode of diarrhea (which is one of my very least favorite words to spell), but still the occasional, brief tummy ache. But last night, he woke up in the middle of the night with explosive diarrhea, the last bout being very bloody. It was another long night for he and I, and Charley stayed home with him and took him to the Doctor (who said "he seems fine") and sent us home with a kit to collect a stool sample for the lab. The funny part is he DOES seem fine, although thinner, and he isn't having diarrhea anymore (well, of course not because it's not the middle of the night), and he's just chipper as all get out. He and Dad built Star Wars Legos today, and he and I had a little nap when I came home from work, and well, life, it just goes on.
But I can't shake the worry and it's just mine. No one else seems upset or worried, and honestly I don't want them to be. I just feel like I need to be isolated and I'll come out when things get better.
I'm frustrated and angry and tired. I'm entering the irrational worry place that comes with his syndrome. I know it's probably fine, and the blood was most likely irritation (although there was enough that it was pretty alarming), but I just wanted the doctor to say, "you know what, let me run some tests" to make sure it's not some nasty bacteria. I WANT it to be just bacterial. I don't want to think about what else it could be, but there it is, and it's all I can think about.
So that's what's in my head. I'm sorry.
On a positive note, I've been getting a lot of great reading done at night. Middlesex, by Geoffrey Eugenides. It's a fantastic read.