Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Welcome to Groundhog Day!

Hello to my people,

Each day as of late seems to run more and more together.  Wake up to some one poking at my belly, changing my underpants, poking at my feet, changing my clothes, poking at my head, telling me I am adorable, or poking at my arms.  The incessant beeping is enough to drive anyone crazy, and my neighbor Wyatt seems be winning the "Most Alarms" category (I hope he's okay).

My days are going a little better and the nurse Eileen continues to be wonderful.  She helped Mom with some feeding that I actually get to swallow..Mmmmmm...food.


Mom wearing the ridiculous gowns they have to wear.

 My bilirubin continues to stay down so for now I am off the lights, and covered up like a canary while I am not being bothered.  I have started to see some turnover in the NICU room with some neighbors leaving to go home or to other rooms.  I am very content to stay right were I am, as I am just now getting familiar with the surroundings of my 'hood.

One item we haven't discussed much of is my lucky fin.  When I was born my right foot was turned in a bit and has required me to work out in four hour blocks ever since birth.  Ok, actually it required someone else to put a little splint on my foot to help begin to turn it back out.  Yesterday the Physical Therapist stopped by to coach dad on the flexibility exercises I need to do each day to help this continue to turn out.  She also showed him how far I had come to this point. It's the little things we get to celebrate.


My feet tucked into the little next they give me.

Pretty soon I will get to start wearing my own threads and have a house without a roof, but I'm not holding my breath for that yet.  That's the status for now.  I am still on a light continuous feed of (3.5 mL/hour) with some supplemental feeds from bottle twice a day.  My caffeine has been discontinued as they think it might have been upsetting my tummy, and my heart rate and breathing have been perfect. 


Dad doesn't realize that I am a nuclear furnace, and can make both of us a sweaty mess.  The nurses only laugh at us.

Love & Rockets,
Patrick

No comments:

Post a Comment