Calder’s pulmo said, hey, guys, let’s kick this oxygen to the curb! (okay, so not those *exact* words)
So we did! There’s a small part of me – very, very teensy tiny – that was nervous to see it go. I took some comfort in knowing that in an emergency, it was right there, next to his crib, if he needed it. Dr K knows what he’s talking about (dunno how we got the chief at Children’s Pulmonary Division but we did, and he’s awesome), so I can rest assured knowing that Calder is ready to be fully liberated, but he also told us that yes, he may need it when(ever) he gets sick … up until about six years old. This didn’t really surprise me, because I’d heard stories on my preemie moms listserv about kids being eight and winding up in the PICU because of some illness. But TODAY, we are celebrating a big milestone for Calder. Goodbye, oxygen; goodbye, nasal cannula; goodbye, loud-as-a-siren pulse oximeter!
He also gave us the green light for a little more social interaction. Still no contact with kiddos, and when in large groups, leave holding the bugger to family members, but we can go to, say, a baseball game, as long as we’re careful. The guy next to you spits every time he talks? Yup, scoot over. The woman behind you is hacking up a lung? Time to take a walk. As if I needed a reason to be more fastidious in my life, I have a child that makes me doubly crazy about germs. I know I’m not alone – the other preemie moms and I commiserate regularly about how to keep microbes to a minimum, how to still have a life, how to delicately ask someone not to touch your child – but it doesn’t make it easier. When I ask you to wash your hands and still don’t let you hold him, please forgive me. J
The progress on the G-tube weaning, however, has slowed to a halt. We don’t know why, but his sure-bet, big morning PO feed is no longer so big, and his day-time feeds are hit or miss. His bedtime feed, well, that’s practically non-existent by mouth. We found out that the nurses have been stretching the 30-minute rule; their intentions are good, I think, wanting him to be able to take it all, but sometimes they would still be feeding him when I walk in from work, an hour after they started. I know they weren’t really keeping time, but they said they have to give him breaks in order for him to take it, meaning that even though they’d been at it for an hour, his literal feeding time was probably under 30 minutes. I think this got Calder into a habit of just “snacking,” taking a little bit for a few minutes and then stopping to play for 10-15 minutes, taking a little bit more, etc. Ginny told me to tell the nurses they MUST stop at 30 minutes. We’ll see her again this week and see what else she has to say.
|no, seriously, i'm a fan|
|sweet little sleepy-head|