Friday evening UCSD accepted Davis for pulmonary complications. The Mono County paramedics brought the flight nurse and paramedic over to Mammoth Hospital to prepare Davis for his flight. As our small plane took off I sought a distraction to pull the moisture from edging up into my eyes and leaving their tell-tale track down my cheeks, even behind my mask. I looked to the west and found that familiar twinge of pride for our perch atop the world in the Sierra. An orange glow lit up the Minarets. Where we live, work and play feels as inspiring from the air as it always has been for me from the ground. I needed this image planted firmly in my heart as we left the silhouette of Mammoth Mountain behind us.

Soon pal, I think, we will be back soon.

By 2:30 Saturday morning, after a very thorough work up from his nurse and the floor doctor, we slept…for 3 1/2 hours. Davis tends to sleep on and off when he is in a hospital bed or a recliner beside his bed. For me, naps have always been precious because nights are broken up into segments of sleep around his needs. Most interruptions are about managing his pain. His right lung has collapsed once more due to fluid build up. A swallow study suggests that his aspirations causing the many frequent bouts of pneumonia may not just be from just his seizures. More studies will be done during the week, but until then all liquid is thickened and his food is softened.

A speech therapist reminds me, not through words but with her hand gestures of yes, no, all done, that Davis deserves a mom who will do more than maintain his health. He once communicated with a few signs so long ago. He engaged his world with more than his eyes glancing at an object of desire or of concern. He didn’t give up. I did. My sister-in-law Janice is a professor at Fullerton State who teaches young eager students about special education. She signs. I have untapped resources. When she and my brother Paul visit over the weekend, I ask for help. For me and for his team of care providers in Mammoth.

A new chest tube is placed on Monday morning. Davis immediately needs more pain management. His oxygen requirement continues to escalate. When we arrived on Friday he used two and a half liters of oxygen. Last night he required ten. This morning he is back to five liters. Later today There will be a procedure to address the encapsulated areas that are infected in spite of the antibiotics. More samples taken for culture. A suggestion of surgery Friday if this less invasive path does not provide the results we need for him to be well.

Davis teaches, as always, that days, hours and moments take their own course. Plan, predict, maneuver as we will toward our desired outcomes and there will always be detours. He, Rick and I do not surrender to hospital time, we simply know better than to fight against the under tow of his genetic anomaly. We wait. I hold that keeper memory of the orange glow behind the Minarets and plan my next summer backpack to be closer to our iconic cathedral pinnacles. I look ahead to images of Davis on his trike with Rick running behind pulling on a rope to slow Davis down. I see us together as Davis pushes a cart through Vons. Soon pal, soon. And for now we wait.