And so it goes...

After meeting a whole slew of nurses, I finally picked the one that I want as Josh's primary nurse. She's wonderful! She genuinely likes Josh, and he does really well when she's with him. Also, I click with her. That's important because the nurse and I end up together a lot, and it's much nicer when that nurse is fun to be around. She's a mom herself, and is sympathetic to my unique situation. Her goal is to get us home quickly and safely. After making this official, I was in high spirits for a while. It didn't last long enough. The frustration is starting again and I'm doing my best not to sink back into major depression.

Yesterday, I met the first nurse that I really haven't liked. There was just something about her personality that drove me nuts. She's a know-it-all in a weird way. She believes she knows everything, but is often wrong. Josh has a humidifier attached to his oxygen thing so that it won't dry out his sinuses as much. He was getting little bloody noses from the dryness, which would scab over and clog up his nose. The trick with the humidifier is that water collects in the tube from time to time and has to be emptied out so he doesn't get a nose full of water, or have his oxygen blocked by a puddle. I was there when the respiratory therapist set the whole thing up, and she showed me how to empty the tube, and to keep it as low as possible, so the water didn't collect near his end. This nurse had him inclined really high in the isolette, and the tube was way over his head. At one point, she managed to give him a face full of water-- making him sputter and sneeze for a while. Later, when I was holding him, I was concerned about a funny ticking sound. She put her stethoscope up next to his face and told me that it was just his pacifier. I took the pacifier out of his mouth and the ticking continued. So much water had collected in his oxygen tube, that only tiny bubbles were coming through at a rhythmic pace, making a ticking sound. Not only was she incompetent and a know-it-all, but she would go on and on about stupid things, like the Smother's Brothers and how funny they were. "The one would do amazing tricks with a yo-yo. Why don't kids play with yo-yo's anymore? Each child should get a yo-yo in school so that they can work on coordination." She spent a good twenty minutes teaching me how to tuck him into the bedding in the isolette, like I haven't done it in the four weeks he's been here and couldn't figure it out on my own. "Now, doesn't that look comfy? It's so snuggly and warm. I like to use these little t-shirts instead of the cloth diapers. You fold them like this... Doesn't that look so nice? It's so satisfying, when you're really tired, to climb into bed and pull the covers up to your chin, isn't it?" And then, when I yawned, she asked if I was tired. "Why do we have to sleep anyway? Why can't we just stay awake all the time and get all the things done that we need to do." Good God! If I weren't so highly emotional I would have yelled at her. When I'm moody like this, anger makes me cry. I would have ended up crying and yelling and it would have been a mess. I stayed with Josh until the change of shift at 6:30, to make sure she didn't drop the ball again. When I ducked out to the parent lounge from time to time, I lined up his secondary nurses (or whatever they're called). Now, he should have a nurse from his list with him almost all the time. When the primary isn't working, the next in line will have him and so on.

It's raining here. Not just light autumn rain, but icky dark stuff that is foreboding of snow. The clouds are heavy on the mountains, covering the tops but revealing a very low snowline that's creeping lower as the day goes on. It even smells like snow. I'm sure that isn't helping my mood at all.

On a brighter note, I've given Owen & Maki back their privacy and have taken up squatting at a friend's house in Holladay. She's just east of the hospital, making the commute much easier. Not only that, but I don't have to compete for parking spaces anymore. My phone gets reception there, which it didn't at Owen's place, and there's wireless internet available-- when they're not using it. The room I'm in is downstairs and out of the way. There's an insanely comfortable queen bed in there, that practically swallows me when I'm sleeping. I love soft mattresses. The room is decorated like a cabin. It has wood paneling on the walls, a big stone fireplace, and low ceilings. It feels very cozy. There's a bathroom downstairs that I don't have to share with two other people (huzzah!), a washer and dryer, and a full size fridge & freezer. The fridge is full of booze which makes it oddly funny to see little hospital containers of breastmilk in there among the bottles. I can't help but smile whenever I open the door.

An unexpected perk at her home are the incredible dinners she makes. She graduated from the California Culinary Academy, and has major talent in the kitchen. I've had phenomenal eggplant parmesan (with homegrown tomatoes), stuffed chicken breasts with fresh green beans, squab with hoisin sauce and sauteed pea shoots, and shrimp dim sum with gyoza. It's like eating at a five star restaurant every night.

I don't know how in the world I am ever going to thank her for this. It sounds terribly sappy, but it's like an answer to a prayer. I was feeling so horribly homeless and empty when she called and mentioned her place was available. It was on November 1st, which followed one of the hardest days in this whole ordeal. Halloween was MISERABLE. I spent the evening alone, in tears, wondering how I was going to make it through this. The very next morning, I got her phone call.

The first night there, I woke up at 6:30 when I had the creepy feeling that someone was watching me. There, by the side of the bed, was my friend's three year old daughter. She jumped up onto the bed and said "I have to go pee pee!" Unlike most other things a three year old announces, this is one that can't be ignored-- especially when they're sitting on your bed when they say it. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom with her. While she was perched on the toilet, she asked "Do you know where my father is?" Yes, she said father. She's an amazingly bright three year old. I told her he was probably still sleeping and that I'd like to still be sleeping too. She asked; "Will you help me find my father?" I consented and walked her upstairs. The sun hadn't come up yet, which made it even harder to be awake. I showed her that his car was still parked in the driveway so he was home, but sleeping. She said "Then you'll have to make me breakfast." While she began ordering cereal and milk, her mom appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, looking just as unhappy to be awake as I was. She picked up her daughter, who yelled; "But I'm hungry!" as she was carried off to bed. I managed to make it back to the bedroom, where I fell back into bed and went right back to sleep. Apparently, no one else made it back to sleep that morning. Every day is an adventure with a three year old around. Man, I miss my kids!

Tonight, Josh weighed in at 1930 grams. That's four and a quarter pounds for those who are metrically challenged. He is beautiful, chubby, and happy. Another answered prayer this month is Josh's primary nurse that I mentioned earlier. Everytime I talk to her, I feel so positive about things. Although there was no pause in these writings, I took a long break from composing this blog entry, and I'm finishing it before I go to sleep. She talked to the nurse practitioner tonight about getting Josh into an open crib and started on nutritive feedings. When I left him, he was sleeping peacefully in striped pajamas. He will gradually be weaned out of the isolette tonight, and should be in an open crib tomorrow. How exciting! Things are really moving along quickly now, and I feel positive once again. With the help of my friend and Josh's nurse, things have become so much easier.