The memories flood into my thought-space and there’s not much I can do about it. Part of me wants to sit in bed all day and stare at photos from TJ’S last week. And part of me says “get your ass outta bed!” I don’t know which will win. Right now it’s the “stay in bed” voice. I feel paralyzed and even when I look around at all that waits to be tended to, I just don’t give a fuck. Maybe one more hour in bed? Two? I don’t know. I don’t know how to get through today.
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I thought I knew what I was going to write about. Three years ago today, TJ and I were being airlifted from Washington, D.C. to Philadelphia, from one Children’s Hospital to another. I thought I was going to tell you about all the hope I felt that day to be able to get back to our home hospital and meet…