Still here. As in, not “outta here”. Yet.

so, lalala sitting on my cot in the hospital, looking out at the 4 feet of sky above the steel wall across from us out the window.  It’s a cloudy day but bright.  The dogeweather.com says it’s “much terrible, such frosty” but I don’t find it too bad.

Ruby’s been snoozing since about 11pm.  We had another My Little Pony marathon and snuggled up for a bit after she had some atavin to calm her down after the encephalon went into her leg.  It was incredibly traumatic.  Again.  So once a week we have to replace this little injection port in her thigh (just below the skin about an inch long) so that I can inject her with GCSF to boost white blood cell production.  In case I haven’t described this already.   The injections are going wonderfully now…she hardly gets scared, we talk about not letting the pigeon drive the bus and she connects with her fear and the fear of pain and we send it up to the universe to change back into love.  The port though..wow, that’s another matter entirely.  For Ruby, this port change is everything that this place is to her.  It’s terror incarnate.  These are her words:  she’s trapped forever here like this with no hope of ever seeing home again.  She’s trapped without her dog and her cat and her brother and her dad and her bed and the chickens (whooops, we’ll need to replace those before we get back) and the quail (well, these are easy to find).   She says she’s so so so very tired of hurting.  So tired of BEING hurt.  Deliberately by other people.  Even though she gets the whole means-to-an-end….she’s is expressing what we as grownups feel when trapped in the medical system too.  She’s just clearer at shouting it out loud and screaming her rage at the entire situation.

She is being hurt.  She is being trapped.  There is no denying that.  So there is simply acceptance and love and comfort and My Little Pony.  Today though there is sleep.  Gentle doucement do-do.  The wolf prowls the room and lays across the door, protecting us from any interruptions.

You know, for what it’s worth, this experiences has widened my heart,  shown me magic, given me a chance to completely devote myself to my child and practice compassion and advocacy.  Much learned, much to learn.

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