Well, Little Quinn is into Day Three of his hospitalization for bronchitis, and the doctors are now doing that "guarded optimism" thing they do, where they try to sound as pessimistic about a possible optimistic outcome as possible. I think they take classes in that or something -- "Advanced Bedside Manner 201", perhaps.
Little Quinn has not actually entered the "getting worse before he gets better" stage; his fever has slowly but steadily trended downward, and while he continues to have icky gunk suctioned from his lungs regularly ("icky gunk" being, of course, a medical term covered in "Basic Bedside Manner 101"), the docs are suctioning him a little less often and they're getting a little less icky gunk out of him each time they do it.
I'll say this: Little Quinn's a tough little bugger. I'm not sure where he gets it from, considering the whimpering fetal form that I assume whenever I contract any kind of mild cold.
UPDATE: I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank everyone out there for their support, whether expressed as a comment in the post below or in e-mail. It all means a great deal to me.
The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
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