"You can go home IF you eat and IF you can keep the oral version of your medication down (which, by the way, tastes terrible) and IF you promise to see your pediatrician tomorrow."
So he ate a McDonald's cheeseburger and fries lovingly brought to him and stored in the fridge since lunch (when he was still refusing to eat).
And then they brought the oral medication to him (which, by the way, tastes terrible).
He threw up.
We're still here.
He's asleep and I'm crying.
Ain't this fun?
Things I will eventually write about:
~the hospital hunger strike and the nonstop comments on his food intake (or lack thereof)
~related to the hunger strike...just how close I came to killing a doctor
~related to the klling urge...just how close I came to having a breakdown and hurting a nurse and a nursing student
~the pee-catching and associated comments about that
~the playroom that is never open (and the child life specialist with a stick up her ass)
~the bouncing balls that weren't
~my child's early philanthropy efforts to single-handedly finance this hospital through penny donations at the donation drops that allow the coins to spin round and round and round
~my hysterical crying jags
~the 9,586,375,485,305 people who told Sam how cute he is
~the important things and perspective and desensitization