We live beside a precipice of chaos. Medical mischief pulls us over and spits us back at a pace we cannot control. Our return to normalcy may be gentle, a soft landing, or punched into with new routines to keep Davis comfortable and safe. Odd that the very force which grabs our ankles to tumble us over is also a force capable of reinforcing hope and a belief that all of us will soon smile again. Davis will soon clap when he wakes up in the morning surrounded by we who care for him. We have been here before.

He reminds me this morning after a trip to the ER yesterday, and talk of another life flight, that life is sweetened by challenge. Honed by riding the bouncing bull I decide is his rare genetic condition. #phelanmcdermidsyndrome. PMS will not be tamed, in our experience. Perhaps in the future genetics can be repaired in utero, but in this moment we have what we have.

Yesterday my eyes watered up with the possibility of another life flight and time so far away from the very community I crave when Davis is ailing. The fluid around his right lung was worse than ever. A chest tube would be required to drain the fluid. Rick stood with us as Davis underwent the procedure. The staff set up a room where I could comfortably be beside Davis as he healed. My son is familiar and they knew we came as a pair when he needed to stay in a hospital. Our buddy Deena delivered an amazing meal which Davis and I shared. Davis had his first peaceful sleep in months. He woke with a smile.

I have simple sweet gratitude for waking up here, in Mammoth, aware of a potential soft landing at the end of this event. I can picture him soon pushing a grocery cart at Vons, happy to be out with one of us beside him. Who knows, he may even ride his trike this summer on the trails nearby as he regains his capacity to thrive in our beautiful perch atop the world called the Sierra.