stuff

Had I done my job right, I would have written to the blog last night.  Then you would have read some good news:  That Liam's puffiness is reduced and that she laughs more and interacts more and her eyes are bright and alive again and that we sat in the garden for more than an hour.  Last night she laughed at some point her good`ol`Liam Laugh like I haven't see her laugh in so many months.  (But as the laugh was over, the expression on her face changed abruptly and she immediately started complaining.  It was strange.  Scary.)  But, I was too tired and lazy last night so instead you're getting the morning report - after a sleepless night.  I counted approximately 5000 OOOOOOWWWWWWies during the night.  Five thousands!!!  (To the arithmetic freaks among you, I counted one minute and then did the math over 9 hours of sleepless complaining.)


Why Liam is complaining and what's bothering her is anybody's guess.  It continues as I'm writing these words - Saturday morning.  It's important to understand that the reduced in puffiness is not due to better functioning kidneys.  Rather, it's most likely the result of the medication she's getting to stimulate urine output.  So what to do about the kidneys?


Preliminary talks about dialysis has begun.  It's not a simple matter.  First of all, unlike patients with kidney problems ONLY, Liam suffers from multiple issues - some of them are unknown.  So a dialysis is a guess.  And it could be a guess that takes a heavy toll on her already very weak body.  There's no telling ahead of time if dialysis  bring better change more than it will make Liam suffer.  It's a 50-50 thing.  In other words, it's very likely that after a few sessions we will regret such decision. 

A second issue to consider is what type of dialysis to perform.  I won't go into details as I'm learning it myself these days.  I'll only say that due to the manyappliances in her body, it's a decision that the Drs are scratching their heads over too.


Rachel
[sleepless] Weekend nights at the hospital are the best way to understand how hard Rachel has it.  (You're encouraged to come and try it for yourself.  OOoooh, that's an idea for a new reality show:  a week with a very sick child in the hospital, 24x7.)  Anywhoooo, Rachel's day is already full to the top with talks to the many Drs, nurses, other professionals.  With filling up paperwork and making important phone calls.  With talking to visitors.  It's easy to forget that first and foremost Rachel is Liam's primary and most important health care provider.  Rachel is the one to absorb every OOOOOWWWWWie and every complaint and every gag and every vomit and every poop - every second of every day and night.  So when I'm bitching about 1-2 sleepless nights, think about what Rachel goes through during the week for 5-6 nights in a row.  And of course, it's not just the physical erosion:  it's coping with the unknown future - tomorrow, next week, and the upcoming months.  Rachel is the one who does it all.

A moment from the past
In the Israeli army you go visit your family every other weekend or every 3-4 weekends - depending on your unit and job.  For us, when we stayed in base (or in the field), we usually went to a nearby kibbutz to play football (eh, socc...), take a hot shower, and get on civilian cloths.  Then the shabbat entered, even though it was not a real one as we had to continue our duties.  Last night I took a walk on the treadmill in the fitness room - while watching the news in Spanish (the Latino lady was there before me).  Then I returned to the room, took a shower, and put on some fresh cloths.  It reminded me very much of those Fridays in the army.  Once again the weekend is here but a guarding-patrol-ambush duty is in front of me for the night.  It's strange how 30 years old feelings and associations pop back up at the most unexpected places.

The joy of writing
Sometime I enjoy writing.  It started in middle school.  I was always the worst, most disrespectful student.  I found myself expelled from many lessons and face many disciplinary actions.  That was fine with me as they played football (eh, soccer, remember?) outside and not in the classroom.  But the best part of it all was when everybody left for the day and the teacher stood me in front of the blackboard, forcing me to write "I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy; I was a bad boy" a thousand times.  They just didn't get that I enjoy writing so much.  :-|    Where am I getting with this?  This page turned from a blog to sort of a news service.  During the week I'm getting home too late and I'm too tired to write.  By the time the weekend arrives I forget all the thoughts I had during the week, which I wanted to write about.  Sorry to make you suffer through this poor writing, which I do in between attending to Liam (since time outside of the hospital must be dedicated to the holy of holiness:  beer, football, and friends).