So Ryan? The best husband in the world?
Who got up early with Charlie this morning and then ran to the store for diaper rash cream (we are going to find dozens of half used tubes of Balmex when we move) while I stayed with a very sad and diaper rashed baby (a naked sad baby at that!)?
And who brought back my usual order from the coffee shop along with the diaper rash cream, just because he is a nice guy and knew I would like it?
Who did all those things even though he stepped in dog vomit not once but twice (once in socks, once barefoot) in our kitchen (thanks for that, Rossby) while trying to make Charlie's breakfast while I slept in?
He is going to be fine. He has a disorder in which his immune system attacks the protective covering of his peripheral nerves. It was likely brought on by a run of the mill virus which gave him no other problems. But it is not something that will come back and it would eventually go away on it's own. But Ryan's doctor is going to treat it with steroids and IV immunoglobulin to make it go away faster. He said that in his experience, the therapy he recommends makes a difference of years in the amount of recovery time.
The doctor said the steroids would give him lots of energy, but will make him hungry and irritable. I was about to ask if Ryan would grow man boobs because it sure would be nice if we could take turns feeding Charlie in the morning, but he's not the kind of doctor who likes to joke around. Ryan asked the doctor if the steroids affected fertility and his eyes got really big and he said "YOU SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON YOUR HEALTH RIGHT NOW NOT TRYING TO HAVE A BABY!" We both just kind of stared at him for a second before I managed "We just mean, um, like, in the future?" And he looked at me like "Do you get all of your health information off of MySpace or what?"
Of course that could be because when he came into the room I was laying on the queen-sized sleigh bed in the exam room (it's also a sleep clinic) with Ryan watching "Love Actually" on TV and then got so flustered I had to try three times to turn off the TV and then accidentally slammed my back into the door of the TV cabinet as I sat down in the chair, making a loud jarring noise that startled the doctor.
After the doctor visit we picked Charlie up and had a celebratory lunch at a local Italian place and then took Charlie to feed the ducks. Suddenly the broken washing machine, the teeming piles of laundry, the vomiting dog, the half assembled toilet in our bathroom, the diaper rash, and the dissertations seem a lot more manageable.