We got a call at home this morning (never a good thing) from Jane's Nurse du Jour (this morning, a nurse practitioner -- they're between rotations for the residents and staffing's always a little wacky then) and our girl did not have much of a good night. She was on 100% oxygen briefly, had a horrendous blood gas (they're particularly concerned with what the blood gas says about her CO2 levels; she's not clearing it out of her lungs effectively enough and it's making her blood more and more acidic) and just was not a happy girl. And she suspected that Jane was developing pneumonia.
Tom was solo at the hospital for today's hijinks. Let me pull up my notes. All right, got 'em. Originally, the NP thought pneumonia but both the weekend's attending, the Awesome Dr. D, and Tom (who just may be getting his very own lab coat for Christmas) suspected the funky lobe, aka the bleb. Really! "Bleb" is the actual term for this thing. Bleb. Say it out loud: "Blehhhb". It sounds like a flabby, useless thing weighing everyone down, doesn't it? Apparently, these suckers can develop fast and become problematic really quickly. Just like pretty much everything else preemies face, seemingly. Although Jane's not really a preemie anymore. She's over 42 weeks and 7 pounds, 13 ounces. She's totally a big kid!
Anyway. Jane was having a tough time breathing, and oxygenating, and I don't know what all. They bumped her rate up to 30 and her nitric back up to 20 and everything started working better. Boston Children's happened to call about another baby who'd been in our ICN but recently transferred down there (Jane's new bedspace was his, as it happens), so Dr. D got a quick consult and the nitric increase was their recommendation. It got her oxygen from 92% before noon to 60% by 2:30. And her CO2 came down to a more reasonable (but still somewhat sucky) level.
Now we wait for Monday and a more thorough consult and an echocardiogram to make sure her heart isn't being or hasn't been affected by this blehhhb. Bleargh. Stupid bleb. It's one of those things where maybe it will fix itself, or maybe it will require surgery, or maybe, you know, that third other thing that I'm not saying out loud or typing or even thinking.
Wait and see, wait and see, wait and see.
Get those vibes working, people! Light a candle, burn sage, pull out your rabbit's foot, petition St. Nicholas (patron saint of children) and St. Agnes of Rome (patron saint of young girls) and St. John of God (patron saint of sick people), make the sign against the evil eye...
10 comments:
Tia, I hope you can feel enveloped by the warmth and love of so many of us out here that are just hoping and praying for the best result. I wish we could help carry some of this burden. Just know that you, Tom, Sarah and, especially Jane - and your wonderful extended family - are in our thoughts and prayers. Let's hope that Jane has a better night, and more optimistic news tomorrow. Love, Ann
Sweetie, thinking of all of you. Thinking really hard. Lots of love coming from the northlands.
You got it. I do Liturgy of the Hours and do the prayer thing four times a day ... Jane (and you) are in there. Every time.
Healing thoughts and sage too. I love sage.
And I'm thinking of maybe a dance. Hey, whatever. I'm retired and have some extra time.
Cindy
Done. Can't remember the last time I said a real prayer, but I just said one for Jane, and another for you, Tia.
Oh, Tia...all our prayers are with you, Tom and Jane. We are churchgoers and we'll be sending all our prayers at church tomorrow your way.
Vibing like crazy here...
Vibes and prayers for all of you.
Vibes and prayers coming your way, Tia.
All of the Marshalls in Chelmsford are invoking every god they can think of to shrink the bleb and envigorate Jane's lungs to their most healthful. We love you all.
Needless to say, I get a lot of chances to offer prayers, and you guys get thought of at most all of them.
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