2300: Go to sleep on couch to enable sick husband to rest better alone in bed.
0600: Wake up to sweet hug and kiss from eldest, routine-oriented, 6am waker-upper.
0602: Go back to sleep.
0650: Wake up to sweet hug and kiss from youngest, spontaneous sleeper-inner.
0700: Go check on sick husband.
0701: Hear sick husband say feebly, "Okay. You can take me to the hospital."
0702: Help kids get ready for school.
0715: Help husband with sore leg get dressed. Put socks on him.
0720: Help kids pack backpacks, find shoes.
0722: Explain that even if no raindrops are immediately visible, we always take a jacket under the Oregon springtime leaden gray skies.
0725: Drive kids to bus stop.
0726: Notice raindrops on windshield.
0730: Wave goodbye to kids.
0731: Drive home and get ready to take husband to ER. Dress up to help teach hospital staff how to treat you.
0740: Leave for hospital.
0755: Grab a quick fast food breakfast for yourself on the way.
0805: Arrive at ER.
0810: Talk to admitting staff.
0820: Text a few people and ask them to pray.
0825: Meet with triage nurse.
0827: Chuckle when triage nurse sees leg discoloration and exclaims, "Ohhh, wow!"
0835: Get settled in Exam Room 14.
0850: Meet Dr. Bob.
0900: Nod in agreement with Dr. Bob's suggested ultrasound and blood draw.
0905: Meet Nurse Lisa.
0915: Meet ultrasound tech whose name you missed if she gave it which you're not sure she did.
0916: Move self, purse, husband's belongings and chairs to other side of room to make way for ultrasound cart.
0920: Watch Nurse Lisa insert IV into husband's arm.
0925: Meet Nurse Lisa's replacement, Nurse Chayo.
0930: Attempt to properly spell names of medications Nurse Chayo is injecting into husband's IV. Think you came close, probably. Close enough for Google to ask you what you really meant if you type your sound-alike words into the search bar.
0935: Watch ultrasound. Notice odd-looking circles being measured and photographed.
0939: Place cool, wet washcloth on husband's clammy forehead.
0940: Wave goodbye to ultrasound tech.
0941: Ask Nurse Chayo if husband can have some water or ice chips for his dry mouth. Be assured Nurse Chayo will pass request along to Dr. Bob.
0942: Find bathroom to be located conveniently next door to Exam Room 14.
0944: Return to Exam Room 14 to find husband's eyelids drooping shut.
0945: Hold husband's hand.
0946: Massage husband's itchy foot.
0949: Freshen cool, wet washcloth and replace on husband's forehead.
0950: Gratefully receive cup of ice water from Nurse Chayo, who very thoughtfully brought one for you as well as your husband.
0951: Be told lab results are on their way and Dr. Bob will return when all results are back. Be instructed in use of call button and tv remote.
1000: Absentmindedly hum "Paint with All the Colors of the Wind" from Disney's Pocahontas. Have no idea why.
1001: Laugh aloud when husband mumbles in emphatic albeit slurry voice, "Are you humming 'Paint with All the Colors of the Wind' from Pocahontas?!?"
1002: Hum something else. "In the Night My Hope Lives On" by Andrew Peterson.
1003: Spark husband's memory of last night's worship practice. Listen as he recounts various anecdotes of rehearsal events.
1004: Freshen cool, wet washcloth and replace on husband's forehead.
1010: Refill husband's water cup.
1015: Freshen cool, wet washcloth and replace on husband's forehead.
1020: Stare at floor, walls, door. Notice four fingerprints showing where someone's hand gripped the top of the door. Imagine the height of the door-gripper. You can't reach that high.
1025: Greet Dr. Bob. Hear the good news, which he says cheerfully to your husband is, "We don't have to cut you."
1026: Listen as Dr. Bob explains your husband does not have internal puss, but just swelling, and his white blood count is 16,900, which Dr. Bob thinks can be treated successfully with oral antibiotics at home.
1028: Nod seriously as Dr. Bob gives you instructions for how to check on your husband's progress, and feel very special when he says he is counting on you to watch for signs because he knows your husband is a tough guy who won't come back to the doctor unless you make him.
1029: Agree purposefully to bring husband back if his temperature exceeds 101 F.
1030: Help your husband get dressed. Put his sock on for him.
1037: Get lots of papers and, most importantly, four prescription orders.
1040: Help husband walk to bathroom.
1045: Return from bathroom.
1050: Watch Nurse Chayo give your husband one more anti-nausea dose before removing his IV port and sending him on his way.
1055: Return to Admitting to complete paperwork process.
1110: Bring car around for husband.
1115: Drive to Wal-Mart to get three generic prescriptions filled for $4 each and one non-generic prescription filled for an as yet undisclosed amount.
1135: Arrive at Wal-Mart, suggest husband wait in car, but instead walk slowly next to him as he comes with you into the store and situates himself in the handy dandy motorized cart.
1140: Stand in line to get prescription filled.
1145: Be told to come back at 1330 because the pharmacy is swamped.
1150: Load motorized cart with 7-Up, orange Gatorade for husband, and sympathy blue Gatorade for sons.
1200: Drive home through torrential downpour. Speculate about the chances of your youngest son's 6pm baseball game being cancelled that evening.
1215: Get husband situated on couch with pillows, blanket, book, phone, remote, soda, and Gatorade.
1245: Eat quick lunch.
1252: Text people you texted earlier with text update.
1300: Use word "Cellulitis" in Facebook status for first time ever.
1310: Return to Wal-Mart, stand in return line onaccounta you were going back to Wal-Mart anyway, so you might as well take the stuff you need to return there.
1315: Browse boys' clothing section and find four $3 t-shirts for very rapidly growing boys.
1325: Meander toward pharmacy.
1330: Tell pharmacy cashier you are picking up prescriptions for your husband. Be told they are "almost done."
1331: Sit on lovely bench. Stare at reading glasses display from which you purchased reading glasses last week.
1332: Notice lens cleaner.
1333: Get off lovely bench and choose best lens cleaning supplies for your lifestyle. Cloth plus spray plus teeny tiny 4-in-1 glasses repair kit all for $2.
1334: Return to lovely bench.
1335: Hear your husband's name called. Be pleasantly surprised to discover that nongeneric prescription is only $7, keeping your grand total for all four prescriptions under $20.
1340: Consult with pharmacist, who views meds and immediately says, "This is quite the cocktail. Someone's not having any fun right now. Skin infection?"
1341: Nod. Say "Cellulitis" like you know what it means.
1342: Hear instructions about food intake, nausea, sun exposure.
1345: Pay for purchases and leave.
1400: Arrive home to find husband cocooned in favorite quilt from childhood, dozing through weird, boring sci-fi show on TV.
1405: Show husband all your purchases and explain to him about his meds.
1415: Give your husband two pills of the green antibiotic, two pills of the white antibiotic, one pain pill, and one anti-nausea pill.
1420: Take husband's temperature. 98.0. Good.
1425: Sit down. Play Scrabble on Facebook.
1437: Call worship pastor and let him know husband is not well enough to run sound on Sunday.
1450: Receive text from neighbor, asking if her son can come over for an hour after school because no one is available to pick him up from the bus stop because she has to take daughter somewhere.
1451: Ponder whether or not there's any way you have the mental capacity to say yes and whether or not husband could possibly handle having company.
1451: Receive second text from neighbor suggesting alternate solution of having you driver her son to his house where his grandpa is.
1452: Happily comply with her second suggestion.
1500: Respond to mom's email asking for your list of what each kid had inherited from your dad's estate and what had been requested by each kid but not yet distributed.
1530: Peruse blog you set up of unclaimed inheritance items. See your dad's handwriting. See his sunglasses. Miss him.
1535: Snooze first bus stop alarm on phone. Continue to look at blog about dad.
1539: Jump up out of your chair when bus stop alarm goes off again. Drive down to bus stop. Reach bus stop thirty seconds before bus.
1540: Tell neighbor kid that you are taking him home.
1541: Explain to neighbor kid that he can't come over because your husband is sick.
1541: Hear neighbor kid ask why your husband didn't get his flu shot.
1541: Explain to neighbor kid that your husband doesn't have the flu.
1541: Hear neighbor kid suggest that your husband could just stay in his room while neighbor kid is over playing.
1541: Tell neighbor kid gently but firmly that another day would be best for you. Deftly change the subject by telling the neighbor kid that when he does come over, he can show off some of his cool jump rope tricks on your new trampoline.
1542: Watch neighbor kid smile shyly and say dreamily, "I could do a triple jump on that..."
1542: Love the neighbor kid's smile. :) Smile back. :) Have warmed heart cockles.
1547: Drop the neighbor kid off at his house.
1552: Arrive home.
1552: Before getting out of the car, explain to sons that their dad needs the house to be quiet so he can rest. Tell them if they are going to be in the living room, they need to use their library voices, and if they are going to play on the computer, they need headphones.
1553: Watch your sons agree readily. "Anything for Dad."
1553: Be so proud you can't stand it.
1554: Go inside and watch your boys use amazing self-control as they tiptoe around the house.
1555: Hear eldest son remind you that he has a swimming field trip tomorrow and will need a towel, swim trunks and clean underwear to be packed in his backpack. Remember that your husband also asked you to find your son's life jacket to take on the field trip.
1556: Dig through master closet camping gear storage facility in search of life jacket. Be unable to find it.
1557: Go out to shed and walk through spider web.
1557: Spy life jackets in farthest back corner of shed. Try to reach them without disturbing big, white spider.
1557: Realize you will have to stand on your head to reach the life jackets and must therefore eradicate the big, white spider in your way.
1558: Find a mop handy, and swipe the spider away with it.
1558: Stand on your head and retrieve life jacket.
1559: Hand life jacket to eldest son, only to hear him explain the pool provides life jackets and besides, his teacher reminded him it would be very difficult to take a sopping wet life jacket home in his backpack.
1604: Receive text from baseball coach saying youngest son's game is on and has not been cancelled despite the torrential downpour you drove through on your way home from ordering prescriptions at Wal-Mart.
1605: Inform sons that you will eat dinner on the way to the game and they therefore need to be ready to leave by 5:15, which means they need to begin getting ready at 5:00.
1606: Realize that you are having a crazy day.
1607: Begin processing your day by starting this blog post.
1707: Realize you will not finish your blog post before the baseball game.
1715: Stop writing at the time you told your children you would be leaving the house, and tell your children it's time to start getting ready.
1716: Dig through clean laundry for youngest son's baseball socks. Remember that his uniform is in the dryer.
1717: Go to dryer to get uniform. Find towels in dryer. Realize uniform is not in dryer but in washer.
1718: Empty towels from dryer. Put uniform shirt and pants alone into dryer.
1719: Go back to blog post.
1730: Get dry uniform out of dryer and quickly dress son.
1735: Tell sons to get in car.
1736: Check on husband. Observe that redness around infected area has decreased.
1737: Take husband's temperature. 101.7.
1738: Purse your lips at your husband to scold him silently while he informs you too quickly for a man on so many medications that he's fine and he doesn't want to go back to the hospital right now and his temp is only up because he's been bundled up under his favorite quilt from childhood.
1739: Frown at your husband, but agree to leave him at home resting.
1740: Tell your husband you expect to receive a text from him by 6pm with a lower temperature reading to report.
1745: Drive away from the house at the time you wanted to have already arrived at the field.
1749: Realize dinner will have to wait until after the 6pm game, which is only supposed to last one hour.
1754: Arrive at recreation area with six minutes to spare. Tell youngest son to run on ahead and warm up with his team.
1756: Arrive at field with eldest son, lugging two camp chairs, one set of keys, one phone, three jackets, and one baseball bat.
1757: Sit down to watch game.
1800: Play ball!
1807: Call husband and wait for him to take his temperature while you stay on the line. 100.9.
1811: Tell eldest son he may go to the playground but must return at 6:30.
1820: Watch youngest son strike out.
1830: Praise eldest son for returning exactly at 6:30 as requested.
1835: Watch youngest son play shortstop.
1845: Watch son strike out again and walk off field with slumped shoulders, ducked chin, discouraged frown.
1845: Walk over to son and make eye contact.
1846: Hear son say, "Mom, something is wrong. I can hit the ball in practice, but not in the game."
1847: Walk away with youngest son and listen to him tell about his bad day, how no one appreciates him at school, and the fact that batting is his favorite part of baseball and when he strikes out, it's no fun.
1848: Watch son tear up and press his forehead against yours.
1848: Ask your son if he knows who Babe Ruth is. When he nods his head yes, tell him Babe Ruth held the home run record for a very, very long time. Then ask him if he knows what other record Babe Ruth held.
1849: Be pleased and surprised when he correctly guesses, "The strikeout record?"
1849: Nod and smile. Explain that the man who had the most hits in baseball also had the most strikeouts, and he was a baseball legend. Explain that everybody strikes out, even Babe Ruth, and it's okay.
1850: Watch your son's countenance lift and shoulders square. Walk him back to his team bench and help him cheer for the next batter.
1855: Be so thankful that in the midst of pitching to other batters, your son's coach noticed your pep talk, and at the turn of the inning, cheered your son further by letting him play his favorite position: catcher.
1900: Watch your son love playing catcher.
1910: Watch your son strike out again, but with enthusiastic encouragement from his coach and the promise of a special batting practice just for him.
1920: Watch your son play catcher again.
1929: Watch your son's coach decide with the opposing team's coach to play one more inning, and hear her explain that it's because she wants your son to get a hit tonight.
1930: Watch your son hit the ball.
1930: Cheer so, so loud.
1930: Watch your son trot as fast as he can to first base and be tagged out.
1930: Watch him not care that he's out because he's so very excited to have hit the ball.
1931: Watch his entire team and all the other parents cheer for him as he goes back to the team bench.
1931: Tear up.
1932: Feel the wind kiss away your tears. Feel God's presence.
1933: Text your husband to tell him your son got a hit.
1940: Watch your son play third base, hoping the coach of the other team will power through his batting roster at lightning speed so you can get the boys their dinner.
1950: Game over. Whew. Nearly an hour longer than normal.
1955: Lug two camp chairs, three jackets, two Capri Suns, two rice krispy treat snacks, one baseball cap, one baseball mitt, one baseball bat, your phone, and your keys back to the car while you instruct your sons to run over to the portapotty, where you will meet them with the car.
2010: Dinner. Finally.
2024: Turn onto home road. Feel cell phone vibrating in pocket. Fish it out and see that it was your husband who called.
2025: Call husband back and tell him you'll be home in thirty seconds.
2026: Get home.
2027: Hear your husband say to your son with a slurred attempt at enthusiasm, "Heard you got a hit. Congrats."
2028: Love that man.
2030: Get boys to bed.
2031: Give in to your youngest son's request that you massage his knee and ankle with real massage oil.
2032: While getting the massage oil, hear eldest son explain to youngest son that what he needs is a masseuse, which is someone that gives ya a massage whenever ya need one.
2032: Hear youngest son rejoin, "Mom can massage!"
2032: Hear eldest son explain patiently, "But a masseuse is a professional."
2033: Give your son's knee and ankle the best massage you can despite your classification as a shoddy amateur.
2035: Give both sons expectorant for their persistent, hacking coughs leftover from last weekend's flu.
2036: Pray together for dad. Youngest: "Dear Lord, please heal Dad's skin disease." Eldest: "Dear Lord, please heal Dad's leg." You: "Lord Jesus, thank You for loving us and for taking care of us. Thank You for taking care of Daddy. Please help him to feel better soon, and please heal him. In Jesus' name, Amen."
2038: Hugs and kisses goodnight.
2039: Change clothes.
2040: Ask husband if he has taken any medication lately. When he says no, nod grimly at his explanation that he decided you could be his medicine dispenser.
2041: Help youngest son find rice krispy treat snack from baseball game.
2042: Take husband's temperature. 101.8.
2042: Feel frustrated that husband continues to insist he's fine despite his high fever and the doctor's instruction to bring him back if his fever stayed above 101. Feel totally overwhelmed to have to be the one to decide whether or not to return to the ER.
2043: Reason that husband's temp could be result of lapse in antibiotics which should have been consumed while you were at the baseball game.
2044: Give husband evening dose of meds. 1 green antibiotic, 2 white antibiotics, and 1 pain pill.
2047: Set husband up with ice packs and a light flannel sheet instead of his favorite childhood quilt.
2057: Tell husband firmly and matter-of-factly that you will give him one hour to get his fever down, and if it's not down, you will return him to the ER.
2100: Sit down to finish this blog post.
2150: Check husband's temp. 99.8. Good.
2205: Tear up again while you write about your son hitting the ball and everyone cheering for him.
2240: Check husband's temp again. 98.6. Praise be to God.
2247: Finish writing this post, quickly check facebook one last time for any life-altering, emergency late night postings in your news feed, and go to bed.
2251: As you drift off to sleep, thank God for being by your side all day, and remind yourself that some days are just like this. Even in Australia.