He Takes My Heart With Him

Waiting

Jack was admitted to the pediatric unit around 3pm that afternoon. The wait was longer, because he was supposed to have a private room. At least until they knew where the infection was coming from and if it was contagious.

Going up in the elevator that we had taken so many times just the week before was heart-breaking. This fun, energetic, sweet little guy was supposed to be okay. Not even twenty-four hours ago, he had been pounding on the bathtub while his brother took a bath. Jack had been so mad. He loves his bath and he can't take one for at least a couple of weeks. So, he had stood by the bathtub and splashed his hands over the side in the water. Nate had laughed at him and Jack had grinned back. Then, he had strained with all his might to get into the tub, his little body folded almost in two, diaper in the air. I had laughed along with the boys and shook my head at Jack's determination. . .

What happened? I feel so lost. So scared.

Jack's white blood cell count is 27. It's supposed to be under 12. God, please let it go down tomorrow. Please let the antibiotic work. Please watch over him. Please, God? Please?