Actually, I need a few. After the last couple of weeks, sign me up for at least a half-dozen Vegas vacations, will you?

I recently had emergency surgery, and haven’t been cleared to drive yet. A phone call from my daughter this morning had me willing to take the risk — my 11 month old grandson, fondly known as Muffin, had contracted a cold. Poor little buddy — but the phone call came when he had a febrile seizure. Immediately they called the ambulance and went to the hospital.

Now, febrile seizures are usually more frightening to the parents (and grandparents!) than they are to the child — it happens when their fever spikes too high too fast, and normally do not do any lasting damage. A child that has one febrile seizure is usually more prone to having another one when they get sick again, which you know they will.

Tests have shown the little sweetie has pneumonia, and they’ll be keeping him overnight. I so wish I could be there, although cooler heads have reminded me of my own current health issues and the fact there’s really nothing I could do were I there in person.

You know, you never know what fear, true fear, is like until you have children. Then they grow up, and the fear fades, a little. Until you’re reminded by your beloved grandchildren.

I comfort myself by knowing he’s in the best hands possible, that he’s a strong little bubbe, and if prayers, tears, and lots of love have any effect, he’ll be just fine.

But, sign me up for those vacations, will you? I’ve about had it with the major suckage going on lately.