Recovery 2: Electric Boogaloo

After three nights at the hospital, Tyler is finally home—and feeling so much better.

What happened? We’re not exactly sure. It began quietly on Saturday night: a headache, an ache settling deep in his neck and shoulders, a strange burning sensation crackling down his legs like live wires. By Sunday, a fever crept in. His blood pressure began to climb. That night in the ER, his fever spiked to 103.8, then plummeted to 97.3—his normal. The fever broke. But just as we began to exhale, a new problem emerged: a nasty gastrointestinal bug.

Y'all know how brutal a stomach virus can be on its own? It’s the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t just drain the body—it frays the spirit, too. Tyler has really been through it.

But by Wednesday, he’d gone 24 hours without a fever and was cleared for discharge. Thursday, our housecleaners were scheduled to come, and every surface seemed to be buried under mail, cardboard boxes, and the ever-growing mountain of laundry. I’d spent the night before disinfecting Tyler’s room top to bottom, but the rest of the house was still in full chaos mode. So I pulled a 17-hour day—clearing, wiping, sorting, wiping again—until it felt like I’d finally exorcised the week from our walls.

For now, we’re moving gently. Slowly. Relearning ease—for the next little while, at least.

To everyone who reached out, who sent love, who sent food, who held us in thought or text or prayer: thank you. It means more than I can put into words. This week reminded me how quickly things can unravel—and how deeply comforting it is to feel held, even in the smallest ways.

We’re now accepting recommendations for soothing shows, aesthetic dramas, and no medical emergencies please. (Also, if you know a good way to hide piles of mail in plain sight, I’m listening.)

Onward. But gently. Always gently.