In which we are reminded who really runs the show (hint: not me)

Yes, that is an IV in her arm.

Tuesday morning I was walking home from Marika's 2-month well-baby check, at which she was pronounced an officially well baby, talking on my phone with K about positive developments on the Israel front. That was 10 am.

By midnight, I was standing in an isolation room at the children's hospital, being told by nurses in yellow gowns and masks that my eight-week-old baby had bacterial meningitis.

(They were, B"H, WRONG.)

I don't have time to do it justice. I'm sorry, I just don't. But, as I wrote it to my boss Friday morning:

In a nutshell, she had a very fast-moving eye infection. She was totally fine in the morning, at 10 am one eye was a little red, by 2 pm it was purple, oozing yellow gunk, and swollen shut, and by the time I got to the ER at around 6 (I went back to the doctor first, who told me she had periocular cellulitis and I should pack a bag fast and go to children's hospital) it was spreading to the other eye and she had a fever. They did blood work, her white counts were elevated, they did a spinal tap and those white counts were a little high too, so they admitted her and threw IV everything at her in case it was turning into meningitis.

In the ER I was told "just in case it's turning into meningitis"; by the time we got to her room I was told it WAS meningitis, but this was, apparently, a miscommunication (ha ha ha ha. Six years off my life right there. But, of course, better that they were WRONG.) Since then, nothing has grown out from her spinal fluid cultures, and she now has no fever and her eyes look perfect so they let us go.

And now we are home. Recovering. All of us.