The official diagnosis?

So, after eight LONG weeks, Atticus has finally been diagnosed. He had cooties. Yup! Fifteen million blood and tissue tests and the best that medical science came up with was cooties.

Imagine how thrilled I was with his Dr this morning when she called to tell me the last of the labs had come in. She thinks it's just one of those things that runs (hahaha) it's course and then is gone. He has officially gotten the all clear to not come back in for further tests, which is good since I am beginning to think they may be trying to reinstitute the art of bleeding illness out of him.

In truth, I am pretty sure that Atticus is fine at this point. For the most part his system seems to have recalibrated and he is just about as right as rain. There are no words for how relieved Dave and I are; this was just such a drain. The only thing that could have been worse would have been if something was really wrong (note to self- I do not EVER want to hear the word cancer in the same sentence as one of my kids again!). But as my grandmother is fond of saying "Be thankful for the wins you get." And not having a sick kid is a serious win.

So here I sit, grumbling about work but not really caring, grateful for a healthy family.