A bizarre experiment

Shall I try to liveblog the Oscars and Ike-a-saurus tonight?

I always love the Oscars. Tonight they seem more than irrelevant. They seem obnoxious and ostentatious. But my choices are, sit here and worry, or sit here and worry and liveblog.

I may not be able to stick with it, depending on what craziness ensues, but I'm going to try.

7:08 PM: Shift change. New nurse on duty. We like him. New respiratory therapist on duty. We like her, too. Precedex, Fentanyl, Versed, Vancamycin, expressed breastmilk, sodium bicarbonate, all flowing into my wee-est boy. They are taking a blood gas. I just finished a cheeseburger. This is how we spend our evenings. This is the first night since the 13th I've turned on the TV. It's very annoying.

7:12pm: Ike-a-saurus gets some CPT (gentle beatings) which he loves. Zac Efron is on the red carpet.

7:25: Ike gets suctioned. The monitor claims there is a CO2 occlusion. It is beeping like a submarine. Marisa Tomei is talking about her Versace gown and the butterflies in her stomach it causes.

7:30: Time to pump. Time for Hugh Jackman to dance a jig. Which one of us will pull something first?

7:37: The opening number is over. Not sure I like an auditorium full of Valentino and Tiffany-clad people giving a tanding ovation to a number that pokes fun at the Recession. It was funny, but a little bit yikes. Speaking of yikes, Ike's monitor alarms are going off but I am tethered to the pump so I can't see them.

7:44: I am really tired. Anjelica Huston is an elegant man. The monitors are going off again.

7:56: Tina Fey! Ike has pooped!

7:57: One day, when I write a movie titled Milk, maybe it will win best screenplay, too.

8:02: Ike has bubbles coming out of his nose. there is a scramble for the suction device, but it's falen on the floor. Doh. Low tech kleenex until a new suction thing is acquired. Slumdog Millionaire takes its first Oscar. Tina Fey is very glam tonight. I have soothies in my bra.

8:39: Wow. Jessica Biehl really needs to pump the left side.

9:32: Just had intermission for visit with one of Ike's former NICU nurses. Marveled at Hugh Jackman's heterosexuality.

9:56: Oh the pumping.

10:03: heart rate down to 48. Bagging involved. Mucus suctioned. Not sure what was happening on the Oscars.

10:13: Ike-a-saurus is sleeping again. I have avoided a heart attack for the one millionth time. Queen Latifah is going to make me cry, and not because she's wearing satin.

10:18: I feel like it might be Armageddon. Not just because of the farts my hospital cafeteria cheeseburger is causing, but because the Academy president isn't going to make a speech. What?

10:20: Danny Boyle wins for directing Slumdog Millionaire. Something is beeping again. Yay for clinical technicians who make things stop beeping so that I can hear Danny Boyle not explain why he is pointing at me like that.

10:25: I am wearing that same spray of flowers in my hair that Marlee Matin was just wearing.

10:26: Just kidding

10:27: Why are they playing Gone With the Wind music right now? Is Sophia Loren THAT old?

10:29: It is very convenient that Halle Barry's hair is also one of those jaw microphones. More beeping. O2 desat. But it's false. Ike was just moving around. He gets very uncomfortable when Oscar winners can't read teleprompters.

10:32: Kate Winslet wins! She snaps off her Lazytown hair and dances like Sportacus.

10:33: Not really. But she should. She's such a pretty girl, why someone decided to give her "I haven't showered in three days, thank goodness I have this comb and tin of Dapper Dan pomade" hair is beyond me.

10:35: We are out of Fentanyl. Our RT tonight has extra super glittery eyeshadow on. Like real glitter. Also, her nose is pierced. I see her out at the nurses station reading a book and I want her to think I'm cool. Can you believe that? With everything going on? I bet she is in the roller derby. Maybe she is Chestie Beater or Iron Lung.

10:39: Langella sounds like something infecting Ike.

10:42: It is too easy to make fun of Mickey Rourke. I wish he had brought his dogs as his date.

10:58: Time for a blood gas. Oops. Time for another Brady. Everyone just came running again. Down to 51. I dropped the stupid TV controller thing and it made a loud crash. While they were pumping up Ike's O2 to 100% we talked for a second about Slumdog Millionaire. Ike is getting an Albuterol treatment now. The cool RT is wearing Care Bear scrubs. She is so much cooler than me.

10:59: Oscars are over! Ike's central line is being filled with a clot-busting medicine so the blood will flow easier. I am eating a banana. More beeping.

18 thoughts on “A bizarre experiment

  1. I hear you. I live in Los Angeles and had to listen to the choppers circling the neighborhood (we live right near Hollywood) all afternoon — it seems particularly stupid this year of all years — my own daughter’s special needs almost always pre-empt the fanfare — I’m sure that it’s so bizarre for you. Maybe you need to just stare at the screen and pretend you’re a shallow lady with no problems. IF only for a minute or two.


  2. Oooooo, is Angel your night nurse? He was always our favorite.
    I hope the sight of high fashion and histrionics helps with your let down 😉


  3. Kari wrote “They seem obnoxious and ostentatious”. Well it seems the more tramatic things are for you, more more clearly you see the Hollywood phonies.
    All the best to you and Ike.


  4. I agree with Ruth. I had a moment earlier when I was (lightly) mourning that you probably wouldn’t be liveblogging tonight. Boy am I glad I checked just in case. Your best ever, mama!


  5. He can’t bring his dogs as one died this past week. He is a sad sad man. for so many reasons… I wish he would have won just to hear if he can speak from that face and if he would say something crazy.


  6. That was really rather well blogged and much more coherent than I could ever have managed. I hope you’re getting some rest now.


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