Fever is gone, in part thanks to a new contraption: a chilled-water blanket attached to a dorm-sized refrigerator. White blood cell count is back to normal, and oxygen saturation is what it should be. This is good news, but James is still non-responsive. The most response we have gotten is when he shook his head while Mom was suctioning his throat.
I will admit that I have been pretty angry at God about our current situation. I know He is sovereign and can do what he wants, but I cannot understand why the sweetest human being on earth must linger in this terribly compromised body, and why his family must be beaten into submission by this illness especially after two deaths of people close to us in the last month. Bad and faithless Dad, huh? So you can see why those of you with more balanced perspective must pray all the more for us. Mary of course has rallied from her downtrodden, exhausted state as she always does, but of course I am on pins and needles and have a very persistent flare of gout. I feel childish, wanting someone to acknowledge my pain and either scold me or comfort me. Michael is being unusually supportive and sweet, to his everlasting credit.
I guess that is quite enough for now. Your prayers are working.
