It's hard to get back to writing when I take any sort of break, but it's just been more than a week, and writing has often been on my mind. But the words haven't been coming to mind, as this last week has been lousy.
After a few weeks of on and off fevers, Hannah was sent home from school with another fever on Monday, at the start of Boston's first big snowstorm this winter. Marc picked her up, and on my way home from the train, I took a hard fall on the freshly snow-covered ice. I landed hard on my back (The Back, for longtime readers), and when I tried to stand up, found I'd had the wind knocked right out of me and I fell down again. I managed to get home to ice and Motrin right away, but it's a full week later now, and I'm still in a bit of pain.
And then we had two snow days. We managed, but I was ready to get back to work on Thursday. But then Hannah's fever came back Wednesday night, so work wasn't an option after all. I took her to the pediatrician, who recommended a chest x-ray, and a few hours later, Hannah was diagnosed with pneumonia. That meant Friday was out too.
Hannah is doing better, and really wanted to go to school on Monday, missing her friends and feeling out of sorts without a routine. But, another snow storm has come through, and we're home again, yesterday and today.
Winter is hard. Illness and injury are hard. Trying to work, feeling behind, and being without a routine is hard. And not knowing when it's going to get easier is hard.
I like to wrap up my posts with some kind of insight, but I don't want to say something like "getting through the hard makes you stronger," or even "I know it'll all be okay." Sometimes it's okay to just dwell where you are.