320 days.

Not even a full year.

320 days ago Denver was admitted to the hospital for diminished lung sounds and functions. He got sick in two seconds flat, and was in the hospital 2 days later. They wanted to keep him for a couple of weeks, but he was able to go home after a week. Then stayed on antibiotics for a month.

Back in the spring he had a short bout of illness that was treated with antibiotics.

A month ago he got sick again.

It wasn’t too bad, his lungs sounded clear. He was put on oral antibiotics for 2 weeks.

Things improved…

For a time…

Until they got worse.

Earlier this week the occasional low grade fever crept back up. Lucky for him, he had a CF Clinic appointment. The pulm put him on another round of oral antibiotics – a larger dose over three weeks again. We thought that would be it.

But he felt poorly enough to skip two Cross Country practices, which meant not running in the meet on Saturday.

I should have known then.

I didn’t.

Saturday night, after having been on antibiotics for 48 hours, Denver came to me. Being the teenager he is, he didn’t say much, just that he was coughing and it hurt when he coughed. Plus, he hadn’t been coughing before.

He didn’t verbalize how much it hurt, but I could see it all over his face.

The pain.

We put a call into the on-call.

We were given a night’s reprieve based on how he felt, and were told that unless he gets worse, we could call back in the AM and we’d have a bed ready for us when we did.

And so at 7AM this morning we hustled on in.

Got him admitted.

Tried to work out details with the kids and our one vehicle and making sure the kid and I have all we need here to make it through a week.

At least.

I told him I didn’t want to be here again this year.

Contrary teenagers don’t listen.