The scans came back normal.  So did the X-rays.  After talk of keeping him overnight, he was released and Husband came home with Cody a bit before 11 last night.  This means Cody’s shunt is fine and we are not facing surgery.  It also means that we do not really understand what happened and are left with unanswered questions.

Cody is feeling fine.  He is happy and full of his typical child-without-a-care-in-the-world energy.

I, however, feel beat down tired – physically and emotionally.

Husband felt that Cody was fine to go back to school today.  And after being home with him all morning and afternoon, I agree.  But that really does not matter for I stand by my decision to keep him home.

But not for him.  For me.

I have this unspoken (and previously unwritten) rule regarding sick days and their relation to hospital visits.  That is why I ended up sitting in my car at 6:20 this morning waiting for the before school program lady to show up so I could dash into my classroom and prep for the sub who had not picked up the job I put out there last night, but who I was hoping would (and would show up and be kind and wonderful to my students).

These are some of my rules:

If we end up at the hospital emergency room on a school night, the next day should be a sick day.

If we end up having an unexpected meal at a hospital cafeteria, the next day should be a sick day.

If we spend hours waiting in a fishbowl-like room right near the main hub in the emergency department where we have to repeat our story at least four or five times while trying to keep the fear and panic out of our voices, the next day should be a sick day.

I am sure there are more, but these are the ones that come to mind.

We are home.  Cody is well.  I appear well on the surface.  I can not go so far as to say I am well.  I struggle with the black cloud in Cody’s head.  I struggle with how to manage my emotions towards it.  My relationship with it is unhealthy.  I don’t know what to do about it.  So I continue to appear well on the outside, at least as best as I can.

And because the teacher in me could not allow him to languish around the house all day not learning anything, I encouraged him to set up a store and we “worked” with money.

I think I need to teach him that the cent symbol come after the number, not before.

Thank you for your kind words and your support.  It helps to write about it.  And it helps to know others are there listening.