Effing Eff. And Blood Work


Chazz’s blood work came back. Not normal. Low levels of growth hormone. Which would help explain why he’s in the 2nd percentile.

They’re going to “keep tabs.”

(Gee, fucking thanks.)

I don’t know what this means. For him. For us. For anything.

All I know is that I don’t want to talk about it. Or deal with anymore of this Optic Nerve Hypoplasia bullshit.

For now, it’s just snuggle time with my handsome little peanut. My pen and notebook to vent. And a nice bottle of wine Roman picked up for me.

Oh, and a pillow. To scream into. And possible smother myself in… I don’t know yet.

*Sorry for the fowl language. I try not to swear in public. Tonight? I just don’t care anymore.*

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