Thursday, December 11, 2014

Why I Almost Sorta Implied I Was Promising Him Grand Theft Auto

It's been a long two weeks for Zack but after some pretty rotten tests (and yes, I did dangle Grand Theft Auto to distract him as he screamed) and  a visit to a surgeon proved otherwise,  we know Zack has Mesenteric lymphadenitis and is basically in pain most of the time. 

Although this condition mimics appendicitis, it should go away on its own, but so far it hasn't and so my poor guy has implacable fits of gut wrenching yelling during which I stay with him, always, but every now and then when the screaming gets too loud I stare into space practicing my yoga breathing and stuff like that.   Shhh. Our secret.

When Zack isn't in pain,  he's exhausted.

I feel helpless.

Life goes on.

It's dinner time and Zoe has somewhere to be and is only 86% dressed.

She holds out a belt I don't recognize and asks me to punch a hole in it to make the belt smaller.

I pull out a knife (a big one) and bang it on the leather, first on the suede side then on the dark black side, again and again, making progress,  but not much.

Just then Zack appears in the kitchen after an extended nap, holding his blanket around him like fur cape.

I contain my joy at seeing him looking rested and happy and ask  "Hey Mr. Engineer, what tool would poke a hole the fastest in leather?"

Without even a second to think about he said "the dog" and earned my undying respect.