Saturday, June 03, 2006

Guarding the door

Woody's last few days have been bad enough, and my allergy to Woody being excessively cared for has gotten so strong, that I have a persistent vision of barricading myself in Woody's room with a large club, not letting anyone in to poke or prod at him unless I say so. I told Maggie about this, and she told me I was likely to get arrested for it.

"Yeah," I said, "but at least I might buy him a few hours of good solid rest before that happens."

This vision is a carryover of my previous desire during the pregnancy to stand outside the cave with a loincloth and a club ready to fend off any intruders. If a saber-toothed tiger comes anywhere near, I'm going to drop it. No question.

All such silliness aside, Woody is having a much better day. He's off the oscillator, his blood gases are looking better, and we're ready to re-start feedings again. The broviac stent installed yesterday is doing well, and we're likely to have his PICC line pulled today, as it is no longer considered 'central' and thus has limited usefulness. I have had mixed feelings about the broviac stent and the way it will be used. The primary reason for its installation was to prevent them from having to poke at him every four to twelve hours, but the primary risk of having it is that the more you use it, the more likely it is that it will clot up or get infected, and that would be worse than having it in the first place. I am fairly confident that the nurses and doctors are all in agreement that every drop of blood they get out of that thing is more precious than gold and not to waste it.

(Maggie tells me that she has ascertained that the running joke among phlobotomists is something about 'why can't these preemies just be born with a spigot', because it would make getting blood a whole lot easier.)

The doctors and nurses are also in agreement that today he gets left alone except at a couple of prescribed 'care times,' which I really appreciate. This will make it much less likely that I confuse any health care professionals with a saber-tooth tiger, and much more likely that I will be able to get out and enjoy the world outside the hospital a bit today.


At 12:39 PM, Anonymous Grammie said...

As your blog shows, HHW aren't the only ones operating out of their brain stems (or maybe out of their reptile brains). There are also Hormonal Hobbs Men whose primitive responses to threats to their families involve preverbal grunts, large weapons, and, apparently, a desire for burritos. So, I say long live the HHM as well as the HHW. Love to all!

Woody's Grammie

At 12:44 PM, Blogger Augmented Brain said...

You know, HHW could also be "Hormonal Hadden Women."

-Auntie Val

At 2:00 PM, Anonymous Aunt Susan said...

Hormonal Haddens' were always included in my emotional plea of insanity. As I wrote "grammie" the other day...June Hadden Hobbs was one of my first maternal mentors, as I was lucky enough to watch her 'mother' kevin and nathan when I became an aunt at the young age of seven!!! I was a little older and a true HHW when Valerie arrived. Love to all.

At 10:12 AM, Anonymous aunt jeannie said...

Everything you are feeling is well-earned; love, anger, jealousy, protectiveness. I too would want to guard him from invaders and perhaps jab them back with their own needles. I'll take a shift keeping watch if you need me to (stab, jab, poke)! It's amazing how much love one little guy can inspire. Love, Aunt Jeannie

At 9:02 PM, Blogger TheBrad said...

Glad to hear some good news in re: Woody but, you know, that "Nathan in a loincloth" image was damned distracting.


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