Welcome back m friends to the show that never ends... I used to love that song by Emerson Lake & Palmer and now I just think of it as a joke. I'm in a funk. The elephant is back and he's brought along the snake who clogs up my stomach. Their old friend sloth is here, too. I told Julie that I either want to get drunk or cry. I can't seem to get any good tears so I've turned to what's left of the scotch I have in my trusty Flapjack flask.
Jacob is culturing pseudomonas and he will be starting another round of TOBI, which is a powerful inhaled medicine he'll have to do twice a day with his other breathing treatments. Jake was on TOBI some time ago when he cultured for preudomonas and we were able to knock it out. I pray we can do the same thing this time. His doctor wants to be very aggressive and put him on a treatment plan, I guess that's what you call it, for six months. It's all very nerve rattling. Coupled with the horrendous time we had at his check up last week and you may understand why I am finding little joy in the creative things I used to love.
I have reviews to write, a novel to type up and a screenplay I was so looking forward to begin. The new TV season is on the horizon and there are new movies that look quite interesting and none of them... none of them can lift me up. All I want to do is hug my children and play Rock Band.
And I can't cry. I can't fucking cry. I know that if I could just let out some of this fear with a good old knock me off my feet sob session I could get up the next day will some of the elephant's pressure off of my chest and the snake out of my gut. And maybe, just maybe, I could conquer the sloth and get back to doing the things I need to do to get that movie sold or that book published so I could then write something that helps people understand this mother fucking disease and what it does to people.
I know that Jacob is a healthy kid and I know that he and we are very blessed. It's the fear, though, the fear that all of this could change in an instant. The fear is what feed the elephant and the snake and the sloth, and the fear is the hardest thing to overcome.
I don't want pity because damn it I shouldn't be pitied. I should be scolded for not being stronger. I'm not the one who is sick.
My children are my heroes.
Jacob is culturing pseudomonas and he will be starting another round of TOBI, which is a powerful inhaled medicine he'll have to do twice a day with his other breathing treatments. Jake was on TOBI some time ago when he cultured for preudomonas and we were able to knock it out. I pray we can do the same thing this time. His doctor wants to be very aggressive and put him on a treatment plan, I guess that's what you call it, for six months. It's all very nerve rattling. Coupled with the horrendous time we had at his check up last week and you may understand why I am finding little joy in the creative things I used to love.
I have reviews to write, a novel to type up and a screenplay I was so looking forward to begin. The new TV season is on the horizon and there are new movies that look quite interesting and none of them... none of them can lift me up. All I want to do is hug my children and play Rock Band.
And I can't cry. I can't fucking cry. I know that if I could just let out some of this fear with a good old knock me off my feet sob session I could get up the next day will some of the elephant's pressure off of my chest and the snake out of my gut. And maybe, just maybe, I could conquer the sloth and get back to doing the things I need to do to get that movie sold or that book published so I could then write something that helps people understand this mother fucking disease and what it does to people.
I know that Jacob is a healthy kid and I know that he and we are very blessed. It's the fear, though, the fear that all of this could change in an instant. The fear is what feed the elephant and the snake and the sloth, and the fear is the hardest thing to overcome.
I don't want pity because damn it I shouldn't be pitied. I should be scolded for not being stronger. I'm not the one who is sick.
My children are my heroes.
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