21 Gunds

My son was at the doctor today because he has been throwing up on and off for two weeks. The doctor thinks it's probably nothing. He is scheduled for a CT scan just to be sure. They will have to mildly sedate him.

The thought of my little boy, mildly sedated and at the mercy of a radiology tech and doctors and things I do not understand, being eased into a CT scan, makes me sick to my very core. I know, however, that there are other parents out there who heard today that their kid needs a CT scan to confirm a suspected diagnosis, not just to make sure everything is okay, so I am keeping it all in perspective.

After today's doctor appointment, my son went home with his father. Also, my husband is out of town again. My son likes to sleep with me on the days his step dad is out of town. My bed has the 21 stuffed animals (I counted) that he brought to bed with us last night. These animals consist of ones that I have given him, that his father's girlfriend bought him, that his stepfather has given him, and one bear that my mother got him before she passed away and that was put in his hospital bassinet the very first night of his life.

I thought about removing the stuffed dog that is from his father's girlfriend, this being a family gathering in my own bedroom - just kind of mistakenly purposefully edging it off of the bed with my elbow. But I let it stay. We all love him and need him to be okay, even his father's girlfriend. The girlfriend seems to really enjoy spoiling, playing with, and teaching my son, and he really likes her. And for that, of course, my son and I are both blessed.

My son speaks to these animals (perhaps more than an intelligent 8 year old should). I fear, then, that they may be missing him. Accordingly, they all get to sleep with me again tonight.