Despite having this diagnosis of cystic fibrosis, and being told from the time he was 2 months old to prepare for the worst--Owen has rarely struggled with illness.
This time has been different. Incredibly different.
His hacking cough is non-stop. He has been coughing now for 6 days. With tears in his eyes last night, he said to me, "Mom, I don't want to cough anymore." My heart shattered. "I know, baby. I know." I rocked him. "It's okay to cry," I said. He coughs hard. He gags from the mucus and coughs. His neck and throat spasm. Lord, have mercy.
At 1 am on Saturday morning I called Children's hospital. "Trust your instincts," the doc says. "That's why I'm calling you at 1 am," I say.
Midday Sunday I call Children's hospital again. This time he says to try the all-feared cough suppressant. (It is of vital importance that CF kids keep coughing to keep the lungs clear.) If nothing else, it will allow us a night of sleep--something we haven't had in several nights.
Now I sit here, waiting for Matt to come home from a late shift (only to turn around to open tomorrow). Owen took the suppressant, but is still hacking--begging me to let him sleep in my bed. I say, "When daddy gets home, just wait, try to rest, you'll be okay." Lord, have mercy.
