Dee-luxe apartment

Yesterday, we got the word that young master Ike-a-saurus has been doing so well he could be moved to the regular respiratory floor of the hospital. No more ICU! No more ICU purgatory! I'm not sure if the regular respiratory floor quite counts as Elysian Fields, but I guess as far as hospitals go it's pretty nice.

Opaque windowed actual door instead of a glass-sliding door that can be kicked open in an emergency.

Fancy booby hatch to put food trays, allowing them to appear and disappear magically.

A really nice view of downtown and UT.

It is like the penthouse of hospital rooms. If only the shower water was hot, we'd be truly sitting pretty. As it is, though, I'll take this over ICU everyday. Though I admit I enjoyed having the big ol' cart of medical supplies in the ICU room. I could grab alcohol wipes to clean the breast pump (swank, I know). There were band-aids and tegaderm patches and all sorts of other things I could snag to do a little on-the-fly nursing. Now I have to ask for everything, and the higher floor we get in this place the stingier everyone is.

On the critical floors nurses will bring you handfuls of new pacifiers and Sweet Ease but here, not so much. I'm sorry, but when a paci falls on the floor in the hospital, I'm not going to wash it in the sink and give it back to my baby. Nope. That shit goes in the trash. Wasteful? Yes. But as a respiratory therapist so eloquently put it, "There are things in this place that won't wash off with soap and water." Those things will not be on Isaac's pacifiers if I have to go push someone up against a wall Jack Bauer-style to get a new stash going.

Now that we are in the new digs, one of our major goals is to get Ike eating again. The nursing is not going great. I'm sure it's hard to figure it out with a new trach AND a feeding tube going down the back of your throat. But they can't take the tube out until he starts eating, so it's a catch-22 kind of thing.

I showed the smiley picture of Ike to his sister (who is two) and she said, "Why he have a necklace in his nose?" Excellent question. He keeps pulling the necklace out, but until he starts eating they are just going to keep putting it right back in.

Today was our first day on this floor and it went OK. We still have a good bit to go before we can go home, but on day 20 (!) of our hospital stay we finally made it away from intensive care.

When I took Isaac to the doctor on 2/13 because he was so sick, I warned the wee one that we might have to take Ike to the hospital. He said, "Will you be gone for five weeks?" (That's how long I was in the hospital when I was pregnant). "Oh, no," I answered him. "No way. Maybe just a few days." Alas. Why do circumstances always make me a liar?

Hopefully, it won't be five weeks, though.

I am so tired. I need a necklace in my nose, too, so that I can eat and sleep at the same time.

IMG_0985

Moving up to the penthouse. Note tiny tiny Taggie blanket over face to protect from the bright lights. Also, biohazard breast milk, and a whole shitload of wires. If I could invent wire management for hospitals, I would be rich.

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10 thoughts on “Dee-luxe apartment

  1. Go, Ike! Although you must be exhausted. It’s amazing how your sense of humor is intact — I guess finding and noticing the absurd in everything is sustaining, right? I wish you continued strength.

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