So, I was going to sit here and update you on my continued wheelings and dealings with the acquisition of Sophie's anti-epileptic drug, Onfi. It was going to be titled Drug Mule, Part 347, but to tell you the truth, I don't have it in me. At least not today.
What I do have in me is a screen shot of a typical text that I might receive on any given day from either the aide at Sophie's school or her teacher. Don't get me wrong -- I love both of them, and they both do a kick-ass job of teaching and taking care of their students, including my daughter. What I wanted to convey is probably more my reaction to these texts which is a sort of nonchalance or resignation, and as my finger slides over the words or presses here and here to get a screen shot, I wonder if underneath that seeming lackadaisical manner is a suppressed hysteria.
And Sophie? This is what she looks like, despite the multiple seizures and near-constant agitated head-banging. Perhaps a bit tired, but pretty great despite it all.
And me? I believe you've seen a photo or two of me, but I took this one just a moment ago, and it perfectly captures my mood