Breathing.

Trying not to panic.

Distracting myself.

My, that chocolate looks good...

Tomorrow is the big day: Spawnling's echocardiogram. This will be the tell-all test that lets us know how his little heart fared when faced with the inflammation caused by Kawasaki Disease. It should - should - tell us good news. It should - really should - tell us that there is no heart damage and that we can resume our pre-August 2009 life with a healthy preschooler.

I can't put across in words how much I want this behind us as a family. If all goes well, what happened to Spawnling in August can become a yucky memory with occasional flashbacks that feel like someone just kicked me in the stomach - hard. I'm happy to report they come far less frequently these days and only very rarely make me cry. I do think, however, that I will cry when I hear that everything is ok with his heart. I'm due for a good ol' fashioned relief sob. I've been waiting over two months for one of those and, gosh darn it, I'm going to rock that cry like nobody's business!

Spawnling is completely oblivious to how serious an impact this has had on his family. The only thing he remembers about the hospital is watching a lot of Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends (if I see that show again any time soon, I'm going to jump through the nearest window) and some ghosts. I think the 'ghosts' might have been what his mind imagined the hospital staff were as they examined him in the first few days. Everyone gowned up in light yellow and wore a mask when they came into the room. Throw a feverish toddler's imagination into the mix and you have the makings of a really bad trip. It makes me glad I was never addicted to hallucinogenic drugs.

I, on the other hand, have the displeasure of remember all of it. Everything from 'I think he might have meningitis' to 'We're waiting on tests for encephalitis. Let's hope it's not that'. I remember all the procedures, the bags dangling from the i.v. pole, the concerned faces of everyone we dealt with, my listless little toddler in a very big bed. I remember the chapped lips, white sores on his gums, pink eyes, peeling hands and feet. I remember thinking he was going to die. Really die. I've never been so scared in my life and I don't ever want to be again.

Some of you might be rolling your eyes by now and thinking, "Can't you let this go now? It's been two months, Maven. He's home and he's happy and it could have been a lot worse. Let it go, drama queen."

Sure, you're likely a bit of a bastard if you're thinking that, and I probably don't want to be having coffee with you any time soon. But you're also kind of right. I do need to let this go. Moreover, I want to let this go. I want it to be over and I want to move on with my otherwise awesome life full of awesomeness. In fact, I was doing fairly well until this dreaded appointment crept up, ever so quietly, and spooked me when I looked at our upcoming week on the calendar.

I don't think about those scary few days all the time and it does get easier every day; particularly on the days when Spawnling is trying his hardest to be the very best Spawnling he can be. Today, for example, he was a cat in the early morning, a dog when we visited the book store, and dressed up in his lion costume for a good roar before dinner. When he's in character you have to address him by the correct animal sound. Otherwise he'll ignore you.

Today, while visiting Grandma Madre, he asked her if she would like to have a game of peckers. He then took out the pecker board and asked her what colour of peckers she'd like to be.

Picking your own pecker colour? How delightful! I have pecker envy all over again.

Life would not be the same without Spawnling, or any of The Gremlins Three. So, regardless of what you may think of me and my drama queen postings, please keep Spawnling in your thoughts tomorrow morning at 10:30 EST. Let's wish him some aneurysm-free arteries, shall we?

And, while we're thinking good thoughts, I would like him to lie still without sedation because that would be the best thing - although watching him trip out on the stuff is rather amusing. Also, I'd like there to be no line-up for coffee at the hospital cafe.

...I'm asking too much now, aren't I?