Update

Wow, it feels like forever ago that I typed that word out.
For some of you that follow along on Kris' path, and or mine, for that matter probably get a feel for when things are good. When things are bad. And when things are silly. As you all know he's been trying to get back in the game of life. In good times, and bad, he tries hard. He wants to feel normal. He wants to eat normal. He wants to love normal. He wants to hang out normal. He wants normal.
For the last month or so (more) I've grappled hard with letting him go. Not clipping his wings. Letting him be him.

Over the weekend he had a great times with friends. He began to feel yucky on Friday. Something I so wickedly felt would happen with the decreasing dose of Prednisone. The Devils drug. I worked myself up enough to fill extra trays for him filled with all the meds he needed. To unlatch from my hovering.

Yesterday I had an early morning down to San Marcos with Kali along with a meeting down there. Driving home I mentioned that Kris was extra quiet. How, like the other hundreds of days, I walk around on egg shells. Of worry. Of "what next"....

He called me at 4:30pm as we arrived home settling her in from her school year. Unpacking. Washing. Sorting. Nesting.
His words..."Mom, I think I have a fever".
Jen would drive him here to Kaiser, where I, WE experienced the absolute worst night ever in ER.
Things weren't like this last year. Here. I can tell you that.
The simple mistake made, he thought arriving at an urgent care would mean, antibiotics, and on the road you go.

Wrong.

By midnight I dropped down to the lowest point yet. I stood up for our hours being avoided. Nurses with attitudes. Charge nurse,with an even bigger attitude.
They'd take a cat scan of his lungs. We'd finally get into our room at 12:30am. 5th floor.
Tucked somewhere that is foreign. NOT City Of Hope.
I discussed with the Internal Med doctor (whom was actually awesome) how to get him transferred. How to get with our transplant team. How to help him. And now.
I'm over being nice. To it all. I vented to him. I cried myself silly AGAIN last night. Laying in a recliner next to him as he puked and shit all over the bed. Twice.
Cleaning it up. Talking him through it. Wondering why the fuck he is going through this. Why.
Why our family.
Jen spent every single night with him here. And City Of Hope. Months ago her family made plans to visit her brother, sister in law and their new baby in Michigan. A trip that Kris offered to stay at home with all 5 dogs. He can't do planes.
This weekend we also had plans for Kali's 20th. Havasu a place where we seek comfort. And laughter. And good times. And friends, mixed with family.
His guilt fielded out like weeds. He continued on to me about how bad he feels. For everyone. For Jens family. The dogs. Us.
As I lay here in this recliner with one of my most serious sleepless nights, I wish I could relay to him that none of that matters. We want him feeling better. The old Kris.
Viruses tackle him from the back. He can't do public. He can't do hand shakes, and the major mistake of not washing his hands. And then poking into his nose.
It. Takes. Him. Down. (But my world of nagging, poking, pushing, arguing, texting...is beaten down)

And so here we are.

Room with NOT ocean view but the top of air conditioner units.
Waiting. I'm praying. I'm angry. And I'm sad. I'm hurt and I'm grateful.
One day at a time...in this life. With my birdie.
Fighting to get back in the game.
Whatever that is.


Safe travels to Jeff, Renee and Jen. May you cuddle up that new baby girl, and soak up Michigan during the change if seasons.
To my sweet Kali. May you pray with me for answers. For your brother.
For my fellow transplant warrior moms. You see us? You feel this? You've been here. You know the walk. Keep on warrior mode. Because for me, it just doesn't seem to be the easiest to put my warrior stick down.

Til my last breath.

Today....Today, I pushed for more answers.

Love hard,

This Mama Warrior Lisa typing on her ipad with no spell check and grammar check.