This is Eli

A blog about Eli. A blog about survival – and by that, I mean life!

Every change if season seems to accelerate the pace of life.

What gives?

I wanted to jot down notes on life before work today.

I’ve got about 15 minutes. Then Laila’s gonna wake up hollarin’ for cereal. Buddy’s already creepin’ at my feet trying to get my attention.

First off, Eli’s cough.

It has subsided. Per usual, as I do with every cold, I flipped out when we couldn’t knock it out of his lungs on our own. Every time my son gets a cold, and it doesn’t go away, I cry at minimum once. Then modern medicine kicked in. We put him on an antibiotic, and he’s doing fine. I wonder if I’ll ever toughen up when it comes to his health issues. Couldn’t say.

The other issue we faced with him was his poo – *poo description alert.*

His poo is subject of conversation between Mark and I every day. Consistency, size, shape- I’ll spare the more insufferable details. We switched from Zenpep to Pertzye for enzymes- the difference is astounding. He’s consistently poo’in like a non- CF kid, instead of unleashing mushy dead animals into the world. Success! We want to taper him off of his antacid and see if he still poos the good old fashioned way. The antacid helps him absorb his enzymes, but the new type delivers a neutralizing substance with the pills.

A stomach virus took out my entire family last week. It was a puke fest. Mark got it worst of all. I thought he was being a man child when he begged me to call an ambulance, because he was going to die. I force fed him liquids.

“Drink. DRINK! We’re not taking two babies to the ER at 3 a.m.!!! ”

Thinking back, I probably should have dialed 911 at the point his extremities became cold and he started to lose consciousness. My bad, darling. I’ll listen to you next time.

“DRINK. One sip. One little sip. C’mon, just a sip.”

“OK, OK.”

BLEGHGHGHGH.

Poor Mark yelped in pain all night with shooting pains in his limbs. Again, a touch of the man child or actual pain that calls for yelping? So hard to tell with sick grown men. Yes, I’m calling men babies. But my conclusion was that it really was brutal, this virus.

Anyway, I continued my role as hydration coach, forcing liquids down his throat toilet-side. He lived. It was a hellish family nightmare.

Poor, poor Mark.

Buddy took it the best. He puked twice and then padded around knocking over blocks and throwing books. He’s taken to saying ‘uh-oh’ at these miniature acts of destruction and looks quite pleased with himself. He unleashed his first verb: eat. Of course he said eat!

He says it and then laughs. It’s rather endearing.

Regarding my alleged marathon effort- we all got sick and I haven’t run for a week. Time to kick it into high gear. Also, start fundraising for the CF Foundation. Also, eat more baked goods while I can get away with it. I’m running a half marathon with my best friend this weekend.

Oh, regarding the correspondence – our slumlord’s wife seems to have gotten in trouble with the law. I had no idea this occurred- but after you are arrested for a crime, every defense attorney in 100 square miles sends a letter trying to drum up business.

The mail man slips a deluge of lawyer letters through our door each week. Of course, I called one of the law firms to find out what this was all about. That’s when I learned the wife was being solicited.

“Sounds like she needs to get her s@$; together,” I said to the secretary. “Welp, she’s not getting the message!”

Then I looked the wife up in the court system to see what kind of trouble she was in.

Telephone harassment at the VA medical center. What the hell?

Anyway, ‘ol slummy has agreed to take down a few menacing limbs from the dead tree in the back yard. I want this to occur before tornado season. One can only hope!

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