After one of the worst weekends of the last 18, and therefore one of the worst of all time, we could have done with an easy Monday. Did we get one? Of course not.
At 8:40 in the morning, the phone started ringing. The only people who would phone us at that time would be a recorded message telling us we've won a yachting holiday in the Bristol Channel if we call them back on their £20 a minute number, or NICU. And it wasn't the yacht.
The call from NICU was about Stanley today. He too has been moved back into intensive care after having a serious episode requiring resuscitation. The assumption was that he had the same infection as Willow, so he was started on the same antibiotics and required some oxygen for the first time in a few weeks. I was actually on the way to work when Leela received the call, so she went in on her own. Stanley was really quite unwell; he had a further couple of episodes and was pretty unstable for a couple of hours. It was bad enough for me at work, staring at the phone, let alone for Leela being at the hospital and having to watch our son like that.
I gave up with work just after midday and went to the hospital. I was no use to anyone in the office. When I arrived, Stanley was still looking quite ill and de-saturating, but was apparently much better than earlier. So it looked like the antibiotics were doing their job. As the day went on, he improved loads and his oxygen requirements had come down to almost nothing. His bloods came back from the lab and it looked like they were growing the same bug as Willow, so at least we had a reason for his poorliness. By the time we left, he was much more stable and acting a bit more like himself.
Willow was doing really well today; funnily enough her oxygen requirements have actually come down a bit since her infection.
Surely this is the last hurdle we're going to have to face - we've had just about enough of the NICU rollercoaster now, and we're going to run out of new cot positions to try out.
At 8:40 in the morning, the phone started ringing. The only people who would phone us at that time would be a recorded message telling us we've won a yachting holiday in the Bristol Channel if we call them back on their £20 a minute number, or NICU. And it wasn't the yacht.
The call from NICU was about Stanley today. He too has been moved back into intensive care after having a serious episode requiring resuscitation. The assumption was that he had the same infection as Willow, so he was started on the same antibiotics and required some oxygen for the first time in a few weeks. I was actually on the way to work when Leela received the call, so she went in on her own. Stanley was really quite unwell; he had a further couple of episodes and was pretty unstable for a couple of hours. It was bad enough for me at work, staring at the phone, let alone for Leela being at the hospital and having to watch our son like that.
I gave up with work just after midday and went to the hospital. I was no use to anyone in the office. When I arrived, Stanley was still looking quite ill and de-saturating, but was apparently much better than earlier. So it looked like the antibiotics were doing their job. As the day went on, he improved loads and his oxygen requirements had come down to almost nothing. His bloods came back from the lab and it looked like they were growing the same bug as Willow, so at least we had a reason for his poorliness. By the time we left, he was much more stable and acting a bit more like himself.
Willow was doing really well today; funnily enough her oxygen requirements have actually come down a bit since her infection.
Surely this is the last hurdle we're going to have to face - we've had just about enough of the NICU rollercoaster now, and we're going to run out of new cot positions to try out.
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