Second Sunday

Apparently Seven wanted to rid himself of the ventilator on his terms. He decided 2:30 in the morning was a good time. During bath time Seven coughed up the tube. The nurse said she sat him up, checked his vitals, and gave him racemic epinephrine for possible stridor. I don't have any more information on it other than that because I wasn't contacted until around 5:30. When Jarrad and I arrived at the hospital Seven had a nasal cannula on with just a little bit of oxygen. It was exciting to see Seven without the ventilator, however Seven was spitting mad when we saw him. I was able to pick him up and hold him. He kept flailing around and jerking backwards. I guess the nurses were hoping when I arrived I would be able to calm him down. I failed miserably. We decided to try some Ativan. That and me holding him again did work. I think that made my little boy seem like my little boy again. I had missed him for so long. I finally feel like he recognized me. Pretty soon we took him off the oxygen to see how he would do. It didn't change a thing so we just kept him off. He spent the rest of the day sleeping and then waking up and generating some agitation. Seven couldn't have a normal day so to throw us a curve ball he lowered his heart rate to the 70s (that's down about half.) He also raised his blood pressure up to about a 108 mean (that's up about double too!) We tried brainstorming about why and of course that went nowhere. Seven isn't really into explaining. It might be a few days until he is stable enough to go home, although the ventilator was a huge hurtle we seemed to have cleared. I'd love to sigh a collective phew with all of you but I feel its bad luck. With Seven, it seems just as soon as I think I have things under control, he hands me something new... or back tracks. You sigh, I'll hold my breath for a little bit. We'll be visiting with a few doctors tomorrow about the details. Thanks for all the well wishes... it looks like it's working!

Seven with Gigi.

I call this "Mommy Medicine."