It has been 12 long days since, starry eyed and full of hope and anticipation, we crossed the threshold of St. Louis Children's Hospital for Pookie's cath. I might say it's been 7 long days. The first five or so were more of an adventure.
The first few days we took walks to the garden and scoured the gift shop. Pookie finished homework and watched tv for fun.
These last few days even the glitter of hospital life has worn it's welcome for her. The garden is there and the gift shop is blasé. Homework is boring and so is tv.
But this morning, as I trudged past the nurse's station with my frozen mocha in my hand and two four cheese souffles in my bag from my now-habitual early morning run to Bread Co. right off campus, I asked with no regard for hoping, "are the results back?"
The nurse's smile was untelling...but in retrospect, it existed, which had to be a sign. "2.05," she crooned.
The numbers meant everything to us in these last two weeks. The numbers inside her heart that we came to fix. The numbers inside her blood that indicate how soon we can go home. Numbers.
We leave today without knowing much though many have asked - and I really do thank you for your continual prayers and messages. Pookie's opened all her cards now - and pretty much thinks she's a rock star.
But again, in terms of what we know, the message is unclear. With all due respect to the system here at the hospital - and let me say again, our experience has been stellar - there are a lot of cooks in the pot and we have purposely chosen to talk to our Head Chef. We see him on Wednesday, and I will update as I am able at that point.
What I know for now is that we are going home today, as soon as the white coats lay eyes on her. We are packed and ready to go. Pooks is calling all her friends to let them know and I am looking forward to a beautiful fall weekend. At home.
Thanks, and God bless,