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September 04, 2008

Comments

ppb

Well, congrats? or not?
I guess a firm' this is what it is' is better than the unknown.

Phantom Scribbler

(o)

Jen Faultner

Believe me...I understand that the not knowing is much worse than the diagnosis you have to live with. Good luck this cold and flu season :(

Hannah

I am sorry her immunosupression has to to be increased :(
But it's good to know that rejection was caught early.

Is the fact that bleeds occured increasingly more often lately in any way related to the rejection? (I guess not, but know too little about rejection.)

All the best, keeping my fingers crossed for few bugs and colds this year!

Hannah

just realized the biopsy was done because of whacky liver numbers plus itching, so forget my silly hopeful question posted above...

Rev Dr Mom

Hugs for all of you...and wishing you a fall and winter with few nasty little bugs floating around.

Kyla

I totally understand that last paragraph. The devil you know, right?

I hope this does the trick.


liz

Thinking of you and Anni and your whole family.

Amelie

Thinking of you.

kathy a.

((( moreena ))) ((( annika )))

glad you know what is going on, that they have a response, and i know all those blood products are going to make annika more perky!

but dang all. you have enjoyed this quieter, more normal time. i really really hope this gets things settled down. xoxox

Becca Ketter

Ah, to good ol familiar label/diagnosis...no place like home right?

A beagle?

You continue to be in our prayers. As always, my friend.

Since I am a ball of snot right now, we won't be visiting anytime soon...but I just got a laptop with a webcam, maybe just maybe we can get the girls online together!

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Falling Down, November 2004

  • Balloon in hand, my 4-year-old
    twirled across the kitchen floor,
    singing nonsense words
    in her own key.
    "It's my gift!" she declared
    to the world at large, which
    was really only me,
    sitting at the table. Enough
    twirling, and she lost
    her balance, tumbling
    to the floor in a theatrical
    slapstick of elbows and knees.

    She lay on her back
    for a few seconds,
    staring
    at the textured ceiling
    with the mysterious
    spaghetti sauce stain.
    Suddenly she
    began
    flapping her arms and legs
    there on the floor, as if to swish
    the imaginary snow
    into a snow angel.

    "Falling down is also a gift!" says she.

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