When I Say Secretions, I Mean Like Willy Wonka Secretions

Zoe while INTUBATED, exhibits a familial gift to blow bubbles out of her nose.

Time In The ICU

Kind of goes like this...

EXTUBATE. NOT INTUBATE. EXTUBATE.

EXTUBATION COMPLETE.

Zoe's lying rather comfortably in mommy's arms. The ever-present beep beep and tubes accompany, but there she is. Maxing. Relaxing.

The doctors will keep on eye on her stats and also periodically use a high flow of oxygen through a mask into her lungs to make sure they are working ok.

Dad tried to hold her and did ok, but Zoe's still a lot traumatized. Mommy says she spent her first several minutes with her hands shoved in her mouth, defensively trying to keep the stupid people from shoving stuff down her her throat. (Zoe's words, not mine.)

The New EXTUBATION Schedule?

It looks like we might still try to extubate today. ICU is still waiting to see some numbers and how they work with other numbers and different medicines.

Holding/Held

I went to see my friend Longhair play with his band last night. I only caught part of it but that's what you do when you have been held like I have. Avicom - the people there - have worked so hard to hold Zoe and the rest of us up. They are the slippers on Jen's feet. They are the food in our refrigerator. The texts of love and support.

Oh, and the band - "Act Your Age" was really good. Ok, I know Longhair, and he's way too nice to be in a band with lyrics that angry, but that didn't mean that he wasn't terrific.

Then I went to Children's to hold Zoe's hand. The nurse said that Zoe might get anxious and then they'd give her something to calm her down.

For those of you who have been reading this a while, you know Zoe and I tended to spend a lot of 12-3 am together preoperatively. So I held her hand and talked to her and mostly we just kind of stared at each other. Her grip is intense, so tight that at times I'd pull my finger out and get the circulation back. Sometimes she'd hold my finger with both hands.

The whole time, she was chewing and chewing at her tube. I think it's because she's getting food through a tube and since her tummy is full, she thinks the chewing is making it come. But regardless, the chronology of activities has been chew chew until you get very very frustrated and then lose it. Then they sedate you, you wake up, and you start all over.

So for that hour and half, we didn't get to despair or angst or elevated heart. Just staring and talking.

At 2:30 I went to talk to Jen. After some minutes, I heard something and moved to see Zoe crying silently through the tube. Face smeared with sadness. The nurse came in and sedated her but now...now I think she thinks like me. She belongs home. And she has one. We're ready to go home.