It was looking grim. Three out of four jokes were on dialysis. The doctors said we wouldn’t survive past two weeks. The bills were piling up. Our insurance got dropped. And I only pooped myself twice this week. But things miraculously turned the corner and we got our strength back. We lost the ventilator and colostomy bag. The rosy color began to return to both sets of cheeks and we were finally off the drip and back on the bottle. So here we are, still alive and kicking on our third week.
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