Candy

On Wednesday I took my youngest to children's hospital for several appointments. She's having surgery soon and needed to be cleared for that. We received some very good news--the repair she needs for a secondary SN is expected to be a lot less complicated than originally thought; the complication with the Contegra implant -- scar tissue build up where it is stitched to her lungs -- healed itself! We are very grateful for all of this and more. . .

We have a rule about candy in my family. The kids must cut it in half, and smaller if need be. When we're on the road, we bite it in half and keep only half in our mouths at a time. Well, we were called in by the nurse for our cardiology appointment just as Lilah was putting a mento in her mouth. We made it as far as the hall, outside the exam room, with me holding her hand the whole way, when I realized she was in distress. Two doctors, a nurse, a PA, the Hiemlich, which wasn't at first working, and a code blue before that candy tumbled out into my hand. I am still shaking, two days later. My daughter clung to me for hours afterward and initiates conversations with me, expressing her fears about it.

Someone at work was surprised that we still cut the candy down to smaller pieces--Lilah will be 6 in a few weeks. Yes, we do. We were distracted Wednesday. We cut it down for my 8 year old, too, and sometimes for my 12 year old. And I hope you will, too. Three years ago the doctors in that hospital saved my daughter's life with what seemed like ease considering the severity of her condition, and on Wednesday I watched them struggle to do it again.

                                      

 Life is a lot sweeter than candy.