July 26, 2007

Imagine having the emotions of a 3 year old. When you are happy, you are the happiest you have ever been. The world is a great place, and a visit to the pool is the best day of your life. When your parents yell at you, it’s the end of the world. Your parents don’t love you, no one loves you, and the only choice is to run away and join the circus. Multiply those feelings by a hundred and you know what it is like to be a NICU parent. Tuesday was the absolute worst day of my life. Wednesday was one of the best. Jordan had fluid in his lungs on Monday, which could have been several things. It could have been pneumonia, it could have been heart trouble (a.k.a. a PDA), it could have been immaturity. The doctors take a blood sample to see if there is an infection, but it takes 3 days to get a result. They start him on antibiotics to be safe. His oxygen saturation is low, which essentally means that his lungs aren’t giving his body enough O2. Imagine being out of breath like you just sprinted really hard. Now imagine feeling like that for a few hours, not just a few minutes. Eventually, we go home to get ready for work the next day.
The next day the doctor calls at 2pm and says that we should come to the hospital and expect to spend the night. Doctors never call to tell you to visit a healthy baby. I left work early, we dropped the dogs off at the Seaton’s house (thanks guys), and drive up to Jax. I drove 75 minutes not knowing whether or not my son would make it through the night. The drive felt like it lasted all day long. We got to the hospital and speak to a doctor. He says that is on maximum blood pressure meds, maximum oxygen, and maximum ventialtor. We are told that he was stable, but maxed out. If he got any worse, there was nothing more that could be done to help him. It was at that moment I learned the true definition of fear. I spent the next hour sitting on the left side of the bed and confident that death was sitting on the right. Eventually, the social worker came and asked if we wanted a room at the Ronald McDonald House (the RMH for short). Jordan was still stable, but no improvement either. The mama Ali was adamant that she wouldn’t leave him all night and wouldn’t need a room. However, it cost only 10 bucks, was 2 blocks away, and I knew I would probably use it. I registered there, got a bite to eat (my first since 7 am) and headed back to the hospital. We sat by the baby until they kicked us out for an hour for shift change. We were both in the middle of Harry Potter and knew we’d be up all night so we got a 2nd copy. There is no such thing as a budget when your kid is sick. When we got back we sat by him through the rest of the evening. That night, I grew as a person. I remembered back when I used to worry about stupid stuff. I used to care how the Mets did – I barely remembered there was a game. I used to worry about my car – who gives a damn when the last oil change was? I used to worry about bills and money – I never want to meet the bastard that tells the doctor to save his kid’s life, but don’t spend too much money while doing it. I used to think about politics – that night being pro life meant something entirely different than it used to. However, he slowly started improving. The oxygen in his blood kept going up and they slowly turned the ventialtor down. When you and I breathe room air, about 21% is oxygen. At the start of the night he was on 100%, but by midnight he was at 80% - not good, but better.
It was by this time I couldn’t really stay awake, so I went back to RMH. Those guys were great. You know how you all say if there’s anything we need, to ask? At RMH, they gave us a place to stay, free food, flexible hours, and they were 2 blocks from the NICU. It’s not much, but that night, that’s all we needed. I napped for 3 hours and went back to my family. Jordan and the mama Ali were both where I left them. We stayed togther until the next shift change at 6:30 am. Jordan was on 40% oxygen, his blood pressure improved, and the ventilator wasn’t on the highest setting any more. I took the mama Ali back to RMH and we took a 3 hour nap. We were back at the hospital before lunch where we spoke briefly with the doctor (I felt like rubbing it in her face that he was still fighting, but I didn’t). The mama Ali was a real trooper and an inspiration during the entire day. By late afternoon Wednesday, he was down to breathing 40% oxygen, he was on reduced doses of blood pressure meds, and all of his other stats were perfectly normal. I even got to change the diaper and take the temperature. Indeed, Wednesday was one of the best days of my life, when considered in the context of Tuesday.