We arrived back home from Chicago, after a perfectly normal looking ultrasound and a couple of delightful appointments with neurosurgery and liver. The liver docs are super happy with how she looks, although her liver numbers are still split, with half of them looking just fine and the other half still a little worrisomely elevated.
The neurosurgeon, on the other hand, was unreservedly happy to dismiss Anni from his care. He also had the wonderful habit of addressing his comments to Annika (instead of only to me), which is usually something she really loves in doctors. But it turns out that, in all the hullaballoo, I had neglected to mention to Anni that she had had a brain bleed in the PICU. So when the doctor mentioned it, she did a double-take that was (oh, I'm sorry little girl) pretty hilarious.
Although I did have to apologize for not mentioning that one to her about 78 times in the next couple of days.
In other multiples of 78 news:
- My to-do list here at home is about 780 feet long, and stretches through one cluttered and disorganized room to another.
- My to-do list at work is about 7800 feet long, and has the added pressing feature that I'm ecstatic that I even still have the job after disappearing for months while the giant maw of stress chewed up all my mental energy. Plus, my laptop is clearly about 156 milliseconds from the end of its cheap little life.
- I've got about 31,200 "thank you"s to send out into the universe.
- I keep falling into the time-warp of the 390 Newsweeks and New Yorkers that accumulated during my time at the hospital. What? That happened? Really! How could I have missed that? I think to myself over and over. What's worse is that I have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly (What could be worse than that? asks my occasionally snobby husband), and I'm even reading the "What to watch this week" TV section and then feeling disoriented.
- Here's Frankie, with 624 times her normal cuteness: