My seven year-old has been in the hospital since Thursday night (wee hours of Friday, to be precise). He has parainfluenza that triggered a full respiratory crisis. We needed an ambulance because he was non-responsive. ER docs needed to sedate and intubate him to help him breathe.

The wife and I are taking shifts with him. He’s making great progress but it’s slow and steady. Every medical specialist coming through is very glad with his vitals and the direction they’re all moving. That helps reassure his mother and I who are concerned for our little boy.

It are crises like these that stoic principles are tested. Remembering that anything could be lost without our choice hurts. But that pain reinforces the gratitude we have for every moment with him (and our other children). Last night I read his favorite bedtime stories to him. He couldn’t respond like he usually does to his favorite parts, but it was a cherished moment for me to hold his hand, and read aloud to him.

I woke up early this morning to the update that he improved a few points on important vitals. Nothing big enough to warrant removing the ventilator or anything just yet, but crucially, they’re all going in the right direction.