They were going to take out his vent Monday . . . but five this morning he pulled it out himself. So at six thirty this morning there I was holding Flynn again; he has a nasal cannula. He has an angry, raspy little hoarse cry not terribly loud, but when I hold him he studies me then slowly falls asleep.
He has had a good day: his blood gasses are at 44 as of five this afternoon, which is good--far better than could be expected. The oxygen is set to 40.
We keep hearing that things are better than could be expected, and it keeps being true.
I am back home in Kansas City. I want to be here, and don't want to be here. Sparrow is ecstatic. I wish I was holding Flynn. I wish I was with Bonnie.
No comments:
Post a Comment