But before any more medical details, the big news is that today, Daddy got to hold his little boy for the first time.
Although still a precarious operation since he remains intubated, the experience went much more smoothly -- and quietly -- this time since he was on the conventional rather than jet ventilator. Dad did great and Calder loved it. We're convinced that despite the limitations the tube places on how he can form his mouth that he has started to smile, and I'm positive I saw one of his grins while he lay contentedly on Daddy's chest.
Speaking of content, they've moved from the fentanyl he was on originally, to oral morphine to intravenous morphine back to fentanyl at, I believe, a slightly higher dosage on a continuous drip. While I'm not jazzed about my son being all drugged up at such a young age, it is profoundly more palatable to stand by his bedside now, when he squirms infrequently and only slightly, than when he's arching his back, scrunching his eyebrows and kicking out his legs in fairly obvious pain. For the last couple of days, in fact, Kraemer has admitted to being disturbed to the point of becoming nauseous. So it's so nice to see his sweet face relaxed.
Calder also needed his second blood transfusion this weekend. They still couldn't get any kind of line into his arm, so instead, they put a line into his head - we have veins there, too! Bigger ones, apparently. A little disconcerting to walk up to but necessary all the same. And by the time we came tonight, it had been removed since it too stopped working.
After we left Saturday, Calder extubated himself. Again. He's a strong little bugger and obviously determined (we are looking forward to having our hands full!) After the first time I thought about how glad I was that we weren't here when that happened, and when the nurse described the chaos that ensues each time, and having to bag him like when he was born, that thought was fortified.
I've noticed now that I can hear his leak through the incubator sometimes, it can be so loud. We learned that one of the doctors had tried a size 3 when he extubated himself for the second time the other day, but it was just too big.
We're still awaiting an exact transfer date and time and for his surgery to be scheduled. Apparently, in the grand scheme of neonatal heart surgery, Calder's is minor. It's also being considered elective, not emergency, since he is relatively stable, which means they feel they have some flexibility, and others who need more involved or more urgent surgeries are being given priority. While I'm very anxious for him to have it sooner rather than later now that it's been determined that he needs it, I'm also sensitive to the fact that other babies need it more and sooner, and I'm sure those parents are anxious too.
They don't do transfers over the weekend unless it's an emergency, so we're expecting he'll get moved on Monday with surgery on Tuesday or Wednesday.