Needless Needles
Night 10, morning 11. I'm beginning to love the smell of penicillin. I have been graduated from high care to a general ward. I'm still in an isolation chamber. Which is just as well, because my fear of a secondary infection has materialised. Last nig ht I was afraid to sleep because of two incidents involving a closed windpipe (how useless can a body be to constantly lock itself out of life?) I was sure that if I fell asleep for the night, Leandro, my 17-year-old pride and joy, would never be able to say "mom" ever again. I've said it before that it's not the thought of dying that bothers me, as frightening as I have since found that feeling out to be. What bothers me is leaving my son without me. I'm an unskilled parent, but my son knows me and I know him. I'm the only person who fully understands whether his little scowl is from a girl problem, or a gaming problem. On night 10, it didn't help that I had the first uncouth night nurs...