Not Good

Today, the dreaded phone call. I keep spontaneously bursting into tears and I can hardly type, so please forgive any typos. My fingers aren’t working. I guess since I’m sitting it’s the equivalent of my legs falling out from underneath me. Jeff called me this morning and said they had to put Jasmine on the ventilator this morning. They are doing an open lung biopsy, where they have to cut a hole in her side and get a lung sample that way. It gives more information than the biopsies they get from the bronchoscopies.

The doctors advise that I should get there as soon as is safely possible. We should be flying my parents in. Fuck. I mean, what else can I say? Jasmine is currently stable and not in any immediate danger of dying, but they are running out of things to do for her. Last night when Gabrielle came into my room I was scared because Gabrielle has a sense about these things. Now I know why.

There is still a chance she may recover, so I will cling to that like a wet cat to a log in a river, but my gut is telling me something different. I really, really want my intuition to be wrong this time, so if it is, I will happily take all the “I told you so’s” my friends and family have to offer.

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