You people. I... well, I hardly know what to say. Look what you did:
Do you see that? Jane's oxygen today (briefly, but still): 38%. THIRTY-EIGHT FREAKING PERCENT. She was pretty much in the 40s all day.
Yay steroids! Yay nitric! Yay Awesome Nurse Denise! Yay YOU.
The Amazing Dr. D was "very pleased" with Jane's response to everything they'd done this weekend. He made a little hex sign over her crib and said to Tom "We're doing good," and Tom said "The x-ray [this morning] was better," and he said "A LOT better". And this is not a man who blows sunshine, if you know what I'm saying.
BUT. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The damn bleb is still very much there and her blood gases (the CO2 level in particular) are still not good. Things can change fast and they're going to have to be really careful about how they manage this thing. Boston Children's may still recommend surgery, and it's a risky damn proposition. Everyone's very worried about the bleb, and should be.
I have to admit, I kinda wish Dr. D were on for the next two weeks instead of Dr. Congenial, who seems to go more for group-think. I want a decisive approach right now. At least I know none of the doctors are going to be making any abrupt changes, and you can be damn sure I'm not going to let them touch our friend nitric. Hells no.
Oh, Jane has a lovely new habit of holding her breath. NOT A GOOD TIME FOR IT, KID. You go ahead and hold your breath while you tantrum when you're three. For now, you BREATHE.
I suspect a lot of guardians are watching over our girl right now. And I'm pretty sure her namesake is among them. Thanks, Dad. You keep those eyes on your girl.