Turns out, the crying all night was him trying to tell me that he was sick. I have learned that I dislike the hospital waiting room way less than the young people's e.r. waiting cell. It is even less fun with all the swine flu papers on the wall and everybody wearing masks and the news people being all scary.
I will say that my boy is pretty darn tough. I watched him get a spinal tap with nary a whimper. I probably would still be swearing and moaning if someone stuck a needle in my back. He's regained his color and his fever has subsided so the antibiotics seem to be working which hopefully means he doesn't have anything severe.
The most touching part of the whole adventure to date happened when I came home to get toothpaste and the like. My dog was whimpering and confused, she knew her baby person brother was sick and he wasn't home. That's my dog in the picture. She's the sweetest most useless animal. She rolls in stinky feces and sleeps on the bed when no one is home. Well, I've got to continue helping a young man write a paper about The Great Gatsby.