Hopital

Lotta stood on the couch announcing to her audience members (Ben and Zibbi and I) that she would never ever go to the hopital again.  She repeated this adamantly.  Suddenly she stopped.  She realized the more she said the word, "hospital" the less it sounded like the word hospital.  Until finally she proclaimed that she had no idea how to say that word.  (Which I actually thought was pretty self-aware since most of the time she has no idea that the words she is saying sound nothing like how we are expecting them to sound). 

Ben loved going to the hospital when Ellie was alive.  He would choose the next room he wanted her stay in during her current visit.  So when he was admitted to the hospital on Friday, I told him his dream had come true of getting to stay in his own room and control his own bed.  The reason for the hospital stay was that we had just discovered that Ben has type 1 Diabetes at his pediatrician.  Standard procedure is to go to the ER to be admitted to the hospital.  Now for a guy who does not in any way like blood or needles all of this is a pretty daunting diagnosis.  Whenever he would start freaking out, I would bring sweet Zibbi over and she would lay her head on his shoulder and wrap her little arms around his chest in a big wonderful hug.  Then how could he possibly stay freaked amidst all that?  Basically now we are in the hospital to decrease his glucose level slowly and learn how to administer the insulin his body is no longer producing in sufficient quantities. 

Almost immediately after we learned of Ben's diagnosis, our superb endocrinologist friend texted and said she'd heard that Ben had been diagnosed and wondered if we wanted company in the ER.  She arrived at the ER with a bag of art supplies for Ben and a big hug for Thom and I.  She let us know that Diabetes is actually her specialty so if we wanted her to be, she could be Ben's doctor.  I mean, getting to spend more time with the awesome Jen Rehm.  "YES!" to that one.  (I mean of course we'd rather meet for croissants than at a doctor's appointment, but sometimes you take what you can get.)

Lotta went on a playdate with our magnificent friend Wendy (pronounced the same as "windy" in our household).  Wendy and her son Max took Lotta to a farm that has a house filled with tiny kitty cats.  Lotta is in heaven in this house and when we visit the farm, we spent a great deal of time there.  Wendy told me that on the ride there, Lotta became extremely sad because she was worried that Ben was going to die like Ellie had.  Wendy reassured her that this was not the case, that Ben is extremely strong and that he is in fact at one of the best hospitals in the country.  (I know the details of this conversation because we had the same conversation on the ride home from the hospital and Lotta told me "Windy already told me that...") 

And once again I am reminded of how being in the hospital throws all the other insignificant things (laundry, dirty house, e-mails) to the wayside and puts my family right smack dab in front of me with nothing to do but enjoy each other (and learn about carbs and insulin and pokes.)  And Ben, feeling perfectly well, is having a great time ordering room service and watching movies and playing in the play room.  He said he is going to pretend he is staying at a really nice hotel.  Told him I used to do the same thing.  Even like to use the words "Checking in" and "Checking out" (although I rarely leave tips). 

Thanks for all the love and support flowing in!