Mind games

For the record, when I wrote that last post, I had already signed discharge papers and had all of my teaching at the hospital completed. We were on our way out. Then sweet girl decides to have bronchospasms. Not just little ones, but about four in a row, huge ones. She needed oxygen. I am not exaggerating when I say it has turned into a literal nightmare. I told my mother, as we were entering the elevator, that it feels like someone is playing sadistic mind games with me. "Ha ha! You thought you were home! But only for nine hours. Instead you must return to hell!" Right as I was explaining that to my mom, someone down the hall was playing the piano, and singing a flat, off key, loud rendition of the Phantom of the Opera. I looked at my mother, and yelled, "It IS a nightmare!" 
We both laughed so hard one of us threw up. 
I am off to face another day at Primary Children's Medical Center. I never thought I would ever be here again. Let's the sadistic mind games begin, but I shall conquer.

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