And...we're at the hospital

Nic went in to the ER last night because he had a fever of 104.5. The doctors said his ear infection could not be causing the fever and admitted him to the PICU. All the standard sickle cell problems (spleen, lungs) are not the cause either, so they are searching for an answer today. He will be in the hospital at least one more night. I am heading over there right now. PLEASE PRAY.

Home!

I am so so thankful to be home right now. Nicolas does have an infection, but not a sickle-cell related infection, just a regular old ear infection (and a small one at that). His "tells" for ear infections are rather different than Tommy's, and I'm surprised that he got one without having a cold. That said, I am completely thrilled that everything that sickle-cell might effect, like his spleen and lungs, aren't having any trouble. We were able to swing through the pharmacy on the way home, so he has already started his medicine and is resting as I type.
Thank you so much for your prayers!

Please Pray

Nic's running a fever a little over 101. Best case scenario is he's teething with a higher fever than usual, but worst case is an infection of some sort. We have an appointment with the pediatrician in a few minutes. I am really hoping it will be something simple and that we can come back home, but I am packing a bag just in case this is sickle cell related and we need to check in to the hospital. Nic does not have any discernible signs of a sickle crisis (ie pain or swelling), but it could be a spleen or lung problem...which would not be obvious to me.

Please pray for Nic's healing and comfort. Pray for Tommy, who is in good hands right now, but who lately has been suffering from fear that I will leave him. I don't want things like this to reinforce that fear. Pray for me, that I can make it through whatever tests or procedures Nic may have to endure.

Ode on a Man as Old as a Grecian Urn

By Amy Keats

Thou decrepit husband of an e’re patient wife,

Thou aged father of silent and sweet progeny,

Wise historian who canst explain a life

As well and quickly as this short ditty:

What number of chocolate chip cookies haunt thy shape?

And untold hamburgers and cheetos too,

And cutting back could not eliminate

Their cholesterol and fatty residue.

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

The battle of the bulge against your weight?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, keep ye hearing aid turned down,

And much like Grandpa Kay, and as endeared,

We will talk and joke as you observe and frown.

Fair youth, thou hast made haste to leave

The ravaged outer shell so stripped and bare

Of muscle tone and vigor long missed

At sixty though one should not grieve

Your loss of energy or shake your fist

At least you got to keep, though greyed, your hair.

Ah, happy, happy man! That cannot shed

Your wife, nor ever bid your kids adieu,

And happy father, unwearied,

You children’s boxes of junk will always be with you.

Their bills arrive in the mail each day,

Some even retain your Master and Visa cards,

Forever wanting, and forever needy

You should cut the cord and move away.

Alas construction has your house in shards,

Preventing your needed escape to Yosemite.

And now the time to count the Sacrifice

You have made for God and family

To think you would throw it out on dice

Texas Hold’em or the Poker World Series.

What glorious fortress of Gondor built by the Sea

Oh Mountainous house painted blue and gold

With a large backyard and well used ping pong set

To challenge your young to try and upset thee.

A place to chase grandchildren oh so bold,

And teach them that Joe Bruin will triumph yet.

Oh old man, how you age, how you decline,

But you have taught us well, and can depart

The gospel that you lived continues to shine

We have Christ’s love deep within our hearts.

Throughout eternity, men rise and fall

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shall be gone, in midst of all our woe,

But you shall celebrate, due to Christ’s amazing grace

“God is truth, and God is love”- that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

Happy 60^th Dad, I love you!

For those of you who love Keats, my apologies for the above travesty. For those of you who love words, how often do you get to see the word travesty used correctly? For those of you who don't know my Dad, don't worry, he is very youthful and skinny and a practical joker known for bringing a walker as a gag gift to friend's 30^th and 40^th birthdays, who constantly discusses the old age and physical decline of his wife and children, and would not find any of the above ribbing anything but amusing.

Abrupt Transitions

So, how did you like going from happy happy beach posts to graveyard posts? In the Klug house we love nothing more than a nice dichotomy. We are home from vacation, and have been for a while, it just takes me so darn long to upload pictures to blogger that I always manage to fall a week behind (or longer) in my posts. This post is written in real-time, or at least with only a few hours of delay.

Tomorrow Nic goes in for his big round of blood tests to determine exactly what kind of sickle cell problems he has. We have to go to the hospital and check him in as an outpatient, then they will pull vials and vials of blood and study some there and send others to Mayo clinic. We won't know any results until the end of the month. We've waited a rather long time already, and done so fairly well. I've probably been a little short tempered at times, and I'm sure I've eaten a few too many chocolate chip cookies (thanks for leaving so many in the freezer, mom), but the wait has been manageable and it is only THREE MORE WEEKS.

Nic is still symptom free, which is a great sign either way. Even if he does have sickle cell disease, I've read that severity of symptoms in the first year correlates with severity of illness later in life, so we are hopeful that if he has it his form will be milder. I am willing to sit in the hospital for the sake of Nicolas, but if I can do it once or twice a year instead of three of four times...well, I don't think I need to elaborate on why that would be preferable.

Please pray that the person drawing blood would be able to find a "good" vein quickly. Once they have the butterfly in Nicolas calms down, but if he has to endure multiple sticks he will be rather unhappy. He already had to go and get another round of vaccinations earlier this week, and that's just never fun, so the poor child is traumatized enough as it is. I know I'm "done" watching him get poked, so I can't imagine how he feels.

I Remember This Place

Once a year we go up to Wisconsin and visit Leah's grave. After church last Sunday we packed up the car and made the drive. It's a bit longer since we've moved, and it feels even farther since a certain baby boy has decided he does not enjoy long car rides and has become rather vocal about it.

When we arrived at Prairie Home, Jeff asked Tommy if he knew where we were, as we had been talking about it and showing him pictures to prepare him. As they approached Leah's headstone Tommy replied, "I remember this place," and then ran off to pull flags from veterans' graves (don't worry, we stopped him).

We cleaned off the grave marker, left a few little flowers from our garden, had our birthday cake, or rather, cupcakes, cried, and clung to our boys. Oh how I love my boys, but I sure miss my little girl.











As I was looking at Leah's album in the morning with Tommy one picture caught my eye. The picture of Jeff and me standing alone by Leah's grave:


At the cemetery I kept thinking back to that moment, of us being so alone just three short years ago. At that time I never could have comprehended how much joy and fulfillment these last two years would bring and how gloriously crowded our apartment and lives would become. It is so much easier to sit on the grass that grows up over my baby's casket, and under the tree that shades her from the storms while holding my two boys and experiencing so clearly the bountiful blessings that God has given us in the wake of our pain and our sorrow. I wish that I could spend each day with all of my children, but understanding that that isn't possible, I am so very grateful for the two precious sons that God has brought into our lives.


I remember the place of suffering, of loss, of loneliness. But I don't live there anymore.

Beach Days Two and Three

The following post was written 10 days ago while we were still in California.





The weather finally warmed up a bit more! It still isn't particularly hot, but it was nice enough for us to go to the beach for a few hours in the afternoon.

Nic is a confirmed beach bum. He cannot get enough of the beach. He loved crawling in the sand, munching on big handfuls of it, and playing in buckets of seawater. Tommy has long been a big fan of the beach, and he had a wonderful time dipping his toes (and only his toes) in the waves and collecting buckets of wet sand for "castles."

I enjoy lying in the sand. Is there anything more relaxing than lying on the beach? I got plenty of good sand-time on our beach trips because we had plenty of grown-ups in tow to keep an eye on the kids. Unfortunately I foolishly relied on spray sunscreen on beach day two, and apparently the wind carried off most of the spray...leaving the back of my legs looking particularly lobster-ish. I haven't been this burned since high school. I can barely sit down. I am only hoping that my skin still has its magic burn-turns-into-tan powers, because I do not want to peel. The upshot for beach day three was that I had to keep the back of my legs out of the sun, which was annoying. Also on my annoying list - I either forgot my bathing suit or someone at TSA stole it out of my suitcase (yes, I know, I probably forgot it). Thus I have had to borrow bathing suits from my sister and my mom. My sister's suit was an old one of hers from high school and the fit on me was rather unfortunate, because it was baggy in places that left me more than a little exposed. Thus I resorted to borrowing a bikini from my mother. Is there anything that will make you feel old more than wearing your mom's bikini to the beach? I think not. I was both shocked and thankful that it was actually cute (love you mom!).