Day 9 and 10 - Blog-Jammin'

This blog will vary, especially its pictures. I've been gettin' around. Kathy sprung me from the hospital and I took Ozzie (Orion Zachary, 2 going on 70, portly, can put away cheese faster than you can slice it, good at shootin' dirty looks, likes golf) for the weekend. And as an added bonus, I get Mojo! He's 12 and the coolest damn dog in the world ever. You all know its true. Admit it.

We went to Nana's house in Freeburg, and Ozzie digs it there because of the bottomless Frosted Cheerio supply. While it was nice to focus on other living beings for a few days, it was hard to leave Sam. Spending every waking moment with him for five days or so really bonded us. (or me, anyway) A basement futon and the prospect of drinking a cold beer was too good to pass up. 

Oh, and live music. On the way home from the hospital, I ignored the pleading old man in the backseat (not Moj, Oz) and was listening to KDHX. Jessica Lea Mayfield was playing in the Cherokee neighborhood of St. Louis that night. I recharged my batteries with some alt-country and IPA. Pictures, of course, to prove it.  

Oz then kept me up until 2:30 am "playing" and "talking" in his crib. He was determined to make me pay for my 40 ounces of freedom. Whatever, you old fart. It was worth every hour and every penny. I can still hear her voice.

Saturday was really fun, since I could hang out in a real house with Ozzo and our jim-jams. Apparently we brushed our teeth at 9:34 am. Sponge-Bob, you were there.

Still brushing... on the stairs... with the dog...

I have a bunch of old 70s and 80s era matchbox cars that my parents have kept. Ozzie loves em as much as I did. My mom has them set up for him in a special spot in the living room, and he goes right for them.

This picture would make my Dad proud, no doubt. Oz is a little golfer. Dad got this for Sam a long time ago and Sam never really gave a crap. Ozzie does, and is pretty good at it! Not so much with numbers, but he knows his colors, and he can snack and golf like his Papaw.

The Moj. I think he really likes the modern shag. And, he gets his own couch. (that's true...)

Kathy hung at the hospital with Samson. This is a CF blog, so I should stay on point: Sam is going back and forth with his cough and lungs. One day will be great, the next will be rough. She reported that one day he was playing hide and seek with some kids in the garden on 8, and after five minutes had a coughing fit. Doubled over, he asked his mom to carry him back to his room. Poor kiddo. But today he was dorking out like a champ, and doing fine. Two steps forward, one step backward. The CF mambo.

A truce has been called between Sam and the Vest/Neb alliance. Child Life Services department has been the mediator. He's entered a contest: if he does his vest treatments nicely, he gets to put a pompom in a jar. When the jar is full he can make cookies upstairs with me and eat them. Sam is totally in favor of this idea. I like this too. It's already full!

Kat sent me this picture, and I about threw up. CUTE.

So back in F-burg: The three of us had the run of the house until 1) nana got off work and 2) my sister Amy and her husband Michael came to visit from Evanston. It was great to see them, and they went to visit Sam and Kathy in St. Louis for a bit. Sam dorked out for them too. It was chaos, but a good visit nevertheless. And, they brought me back a sixer of Boulevard IPA. (Thanks guys!!)  

While they went to STL, Ozzie and I had some ice cream. Remember - he's 70. He likes ice cream, but it makes him fart.

Today, Day 10: Nana, Amy, Michael, and I packed me up for another week in the "tank." I basically took all of Mom's non-perishables. I almost took the IPAs. Decided against that.

We packed up and drove to STL to make "the switch" with mommy at the hospital. She gets the van, Ozzie, and Moj. I get Sam and my blog. Mojo rode shotgun. Good boy.

Amy sent me with some books for Sam. He instantly dug into them. (He fell asleep tonight doing a pirate-themed seek-and-find.)

Kathy got him some toys from the gift shop over the weekend (being in the hospital ain't so bad if you get new toys every day, eh?). We played a lot, and got back into our routine. 

Sam needs to stay here at least until Friday according to his pulmonologists. He's a good sport, and we're really, really, really proud of him. He's been through hell and back again since he was a day old. He's endured more than I can ever imagine, even before he was three months old and 8 pounds. He's a tough kid, and has a wonderful sense of humor. He knows the planets, multi-syllabic words, can add, tell time, and can jump your ass at checkers. He amazes me, as do most kids here.

He can also do his vest while sleeping. Can you do that?