No we haven’t had the baby. It’s a bit soon for that yet. That ugly hand of Allen’s Thursday morning (need I remind you?) definitely signaled the need for medical attention. We called the doctor before his classes after dropping the boys off at the bus at 7:20 but they couldn’t get him in until the next day because of Al’s school schedule.

I reluctantly dropped him off at class at about 7:40, got home and my phone rang. Allen was in pain and vomiting and I knew what that meant. I picked him up before his 8 o’ clock class even started, talked him out of going to see his doctor and ran him right back to the hospital he’d been seen at the day before.

He was admitted at about 8 in the morning and started on IV antibiotics as I suspected he would be and our fun 3 day hospital journey began. Gilbert Hospital was great. They fed me and the kids when we were there and took care of all of us, the nurses were patient and fun (with one exception) and I loved the small hospital feel.

I had no idea when Allen was admitted that he’d be there quite so long and I stewed and fretted alot about how much school he was missing in his first week back. (Okay, so I’m still doing that.)

Our friends and ward members were unbelievably supportive and they made it so I could be there to harass people when it looked like Allen’s hand was going to explode (we still didn’t know if he was going to need surgery at that point), they made sure my family was fed, my kids were entertained and I didn’t go crazy. I am soooo grateful for everyone who helped and everyone who offered help and support! It is only because of you people that I made it through last week without going completely crazy.

Thursday night I brought the kids in to visit their dad and we hung out well past their bedtimes. Allen’s hand was looking and feeling pretty bad still and I was kind of at my worst as far as worry and uncertainty goes. I don’t think I made a very good impression on the nurse that night.

Friday things were looking better and Allen saw a couple of doctors. Jack and I hung out for part of the day and it was looking like Allen might get to go home the next day.

Saturday morning I got the news- the man was coming home! YAY!!! His awful nurse ignored him long enough that he didn’t get his last round of antibiotics and was going to punish him for his existence by never processing his discharge papers so I brought in the kids for motivation. That did it. Twenty minutes and he was out.

Saturday night was a little rough. Thankfully our neighbor dropped by with dinner and we were able to just let Allen rest and adjust to his new meds. Sunday morning was more of the same but we made it to church and things have gotten much better since then. Al’s hand is doing better every day but it still looks pretty gross to me. I’m still working on finding meaning in this experience and I think I’ve extracted enough nuggets to last me for now. I’m sure it will all be clearer in the big picture.

If this story left you feeling lost, you should probably read the prequel.

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