Sparkle

Every day Teague gets better. I don't know how he's doing it, but he is. The only word to describe him is sparkly. Or shiny. He's the same kid, but his personality is brighter. I never knew he wasn't laid-back. He talks all the time. I can barely have conversations with the other kids because he's interrupting. He giggles more, he runs away from diaper changes, and he gets way more excited about things he likes than he did before.

His pain continues to decrease. Only days ago I was having to switch between Motrin and Tylenol because he couldn't make it the full between-doses time. We were on a three-hour schedule. Yesterday, though, he had only two doses, and today, one. He woke up happy again from a full night's sleep, so I didn't give him anything in the morning. Then at about lunchtime, he said, "Mama, head. Meds." And that's been it.

I wrote thank-you notes today to the doctors, nurses, and medical staff who have helped us. And really, there were just no words. How do you thank someone for saving your child's life? Teague is not just alive. He is well.