I couldn’t fight the feeling that he was faking it, the whole day, a raincloud of not wanting to go back to rehab.

Legs outstretched on my brown leather couch, “My back hurts. My shoulders hurt. It feels like before I went to the ER the last time, but not as bad. I don’t even feel good enough to sleep at yours or Dads.”

Facing away, my eyes rolled into my head.

Thankful for his dad and step-mom, I can’t imagine the task of a real single parent. “Take him to the ER. We can’t risk it.”

It felt normal, almost comforting back at the hospital, our second home.

Vitals checked, tests run, medicine given, no answer, midnight. “We’re going to keep him to see what Dr. Richards (Noah’s surgeon) says tomorrow.”

It was 2 pm when Dr. Richards delivered the words, “It appears that the valve we created has become unattached. Therefore, we need to go in again and take that valve off, replacing it with a another valve.”

“When?” Noah asked.

“Soon, Richards replied, “Tomorrow.”