Monday: And It Has Not Been A Weekend For The Faint Of Heart

Indeed, it has not been a weekend for the faint of heart.  When I awoke for Saturday's run, I was greeted by symptoms of distress which ultimately ended in the emergency ward of the women's hospital.  Though in good health and with all signs seeming normal, Baby Sloan # 2 was not meant to be at this particular time in my life.  And while the situation has been undeniably tragic and heart-wrenching, there came a point in the eight hours that I spent on a hospital gurney and the night that I spent in the hospital when the drama of the hospital events overshadowed the tragedy of the situation, and I was just sort of glad to be alive.

I feel that the climax of the situation was when, after four hours on the gurney in emergency triage, I attempted to stand up and passed out cold on the hospital floor in my terrible hospital gown.  Coming to with a terrified nurse flapping her arms like a bird and screaming (most unprofessionally, I might add) "WAAAKKKE UPPPP!!!!  WAAAKKE UUUPPPP!!!!" while three other nurses stare down at you like you have two heads or yak horns is most unpleasant.  Also unpleasant is the fact all professionals freaked out and were paralyzed by fear in the face of my full-on physical meltdown.  

The attending physician (who was just a prince of the medical profession) scooped me up off the floor and toted me back to my gurney, where I was housed for another four hours until completely stable.  Finally admitted to the hospital with a painful IV, a slight fever, and forbidden to eat ANYTHING (though I was ravenous), I burrowed down with Team of Rivals.  I will have to say that Abraham Lincoln does tend to put things in perspective, which I mightily appreciate.  Have I convinced you to read this book yet??

Now, you may think that when you have endured a series of unfortunate events your two-year-old will have mercy upon you and behave like a lamb once you return home.  I was, I will admit, completely taken in by his joy at being reunited with me, but it seemed like only seconds before he had become all too quiet in a far corner of the house.  And while I could only assume he was being very very good and allowing mommy to rest, he was in fact dumping a 16 ounce jar of lotion in between my side of the bed and my bedside table while vigilantly wiping his hands on my silk pillow shams.  

Oh, the consequences that ensued, the crying, the stomping and the time-outing (for all parties involved) made me realize that sometimes you do not have a lot of choice but to get back to normal.  So thanks Ivan, but not so much.