Yesterday I was optimistic that Timmy was recovering. He had more energy than I have seen in two weeks, and he was smiling from ear to ear for much of the day. By the time we tucked him into bed he had only had a few coughing spells, and I was confident that we were finally on the mend.
He woke us up with a violent coughing fit in the middle of the night. After touching his forehead I knew that his fever had returned. My healthy day optimism was too early; my little guy is still sick.
We will spend another day on the couch, watching Grinch and Polar Express. I hate seeing him sick, but I'm happy to relax today. With Timmy feeling better yesterday, I took the opportunity to declutter and clean the bedroom. Hours of moving furniture, bagging trash and boxing items for donation took their toll.
Last night my leg started to ache, prompting me to remove my prosthesis to obtain relief. As soon as I slipped off the liner I saw a golf ball size bump on the side of my limb. Ice and ibuprofen helped with the swelling, but my leg would benefit from a day of rest and healing. I just wish that the rest was self-imposed rather than dictated by Timmy's poor health.