Thanks for all your kind thoughts for my husband. He was admitted yesterday after all and we are all in a frenzy of worried activity. Luckily, my saintly sister-in-law consented to drive down from Philadelphia (a nearly five hour drive through D.C. traffic) to help out with the kids. For this act, if for nothing else, she should be given every Pulitzer and Nobel prize available.


I am exhausted and scared, he is exhausted and hurting. But the care is excellent (save for one spectacularly bitchy nurse) and he is resting - which is needed above all. With luck and good vitals, he'll be coming home in a day or so. Any prayers you wish to offer up to the diety of your choice, candles you wish to burn or herbs you wish to dry and crumble will be greatly appreciated.


Back in a few.

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Typos - argh. Sorry 'bout them. I ought to be more careful.



To compensate, I'll give you three words as a sneak preview of my next post: Sandra Tsing Loh.

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The chocolate sauce very likely will not happen today. My husband called yesterday shortly after I finished posting that the ingredients were measured and ready to go. He was on his way to the ER, unable to breathe. Would I mind terribly meeting him there? Would I mind? Oh, for the love of God, no. It was close to school pick up time so I put the baby into the car, drove first to get the Boy Wonder and headed over. I was convinced that he would have been called in by the time I got there - aren't breathing problems a ticket to instant ER service, along with chest pain and premature labor? No go. I rushed in after finding what had to be the farthest possible parking spot to find him sitting in the waiting area turning ever so slightly bluish around the edges.


I have always known that this could someday happen. My husband has asthma that has been difficult to control - although a series of excellent allergists and pulmonary specialists have kept him on an even keel for a while now. He hadn't been serious about keeping his meds up to date until I came home from work one day crying and shaking after a colleague's sudden death from...asthma. He had an asthma attack and died, leaving behind a pregnant wife and an 18 month old son. I had had no idea that people could die of asthma in this day and age - never once occurred to me. I thought that was something that used to happen. We had just begun the negotiations surrounding starting a family and I told him that we would not be having children until he started taking regular appointments and got his medications in order. He now says that he knew from my tone of my voice and the cast of my face that I meant it and so he made the necessary calls the next day.


That was early in 1999. Since then he has kept up with a regimen of two or three inhalers, plus allergy tabs and nasal sprays. And it all worked - until yesterday. Likely the event was set off by the cold we're wrestling with, coupled with the normal allergens one sees in the advent of spring and the stress of mid-semester exams (not to mention the general rundownedness that comes from living with an infant). In any case, he was stabilized and sent home more than 6 hours after his arrival (he was only taken "backstage" to keep me from bothering the triage nurse again with requests for a nebulizer, towel and/or a basin for vomiting).


Today we're all tired and a little spent from the drama. The hospital is no place for kids, but since the only people we know here in Cville work at the hospital we had no one to look after them for us. The Boy Wonder was just that - amazing how kids know they've got to pull it together and just not be, you know, toddlers. The baby slept off her schedule and even consented to nurse with lots of light and noise - conditions at which she usually balks. The parts of the day not spent sleeping will be used to pick up prescriptions, track down the allergist and talking to the radiologist about the chest x-ray. Today I also get to admit to how scared I was and maybe even cry a little.

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I spent a large chunk of this morning's nap time composing a letter to the CIO of a local medical informatics company. Basically, I'm seeking what's commonly called an "informational interview" - that is, I'm not looking to him for employment but rather a discussion of the industry and his views on where it's headed and what might be in store. In other words, I'd just like to make the contact. I'm not a natural networker and doing this kind of thing always makes me nervous and jerky. I've been on the receiving end of similar letters and I'm always careful to treat them seriously, but I'm aware that many people blow them off entirely. I would say at least 80% of those that I have written and for which I've attempted follow up have been completely disregarded. And yet, into the fray I go.


The small portion of my brain that hasn't been taken up with writing, rewriting and rewriting again the letter I've given over to cutting the pieces for two pairs of shorts I'm starting to make for the Boy Wonder. Depressing to be thinking about summer clothes today, what with all the cold rain and general gloom, but I'd rather not leave these things to the last minute. A local fabric shop had some really great plaids so I bought three-quarters of a yard of two of them for some nice, simple elastic-waisted shorts. I've got a few sewing projects on tap for myself to follow, including a really great evening bag shaped kind of like a miniature handled paper sack. I'm very much looking forward to that one - and also very much wishing I had somewhere to use it.

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