Welcome to the machine! James's room in the NICU beeps, walps, and buzzes with the various instruments that are sustaining him. A friend asked what sort of meals James is consuming in his state (feeding tube was implanted in his stomach this afternoon and the one in his nose removed) and I meant to tell her it is a machine called "the kangaroo" that delivers what I prefer to think of as a sort of latte colored shake.  I do not know if it is a false memory or not but I think there is a little roo mascot on there. It buzzes rudely when it needs to be reset.

James is still attached to a ventilator that helps to keep his airways clear, now through the hole in his trachea.  When the surgical team came upstairs to wheel him to surgery yesterday, one of the younger attendants made fun of the ventilator by saying, "Wow, same old ventilators, those are the ones I used to see on the TV show ER."  I thought that was pretty absurd. He was too young to have any actual clinical memory--he had accurate props from a television show as his only reference!  I guess, if I had to delve into my knowledge of hospital machines, it would be the sick bay in Star Trek.  We need one of those little communicators that Bones would wave over the captain to provide a proper diagnosis for whenever he was injured from battles with aliens or a strange species of women or both! James's brother Jeff thought James was fascinated by the show when he was a kid because the captain shared his name.  I can hear Bones in my mind saying, "Jim!"

The other remaining drain from his brain was removed last night.  He has a monitor on one of his fingers for pulse and blood pressure, the IV antibiotics through the line in left his arm (annoying loud continuous beep when it runs empty), and the pressure cuffs on each leg to keep his blood circulating which sound like an aero bed inflating.  I think I know the specific warning sounds for each machine now, by heart.  When Robert was here, he learned the ventilator alarm sound straight away and does a pretty good impression of it.

All the sounds are warnings and some are routinely ignored to a point (the one monitoring blood pressure) because they keep the bar rather low.  Some may beep for sometime before the nurse just pops in to turn it off. Nothing to be alarmed about!

James had his first visit with a physical therapist today!  I was so glad to be there.  I had ideas of stretches I wanted to do with James but I was afraid to move him.  The physical therapist rolled up her sleeves and did many of the stretches and rotation of joints I would have done during my massage practice. Now that I have the green light to work on him, I will be working on his legs, hands, and feet.  I was already massaging his feet, hands, and part of his face daily and I am excited to widen the scope of practice now.

Since James will be unable to speak because of the trachea tube, the physical therapist has suggested that I create a system of communication with James. We have already been communicating through hand squeezes so I plan to expand out on that--one for yes, two for no.  The physical therapist tried to get him to blink once for yes, twice for no but I thought that was tedious and he would not want to bother with that--I think the light in the room might feel a little intense at the moment and part of the reason he prefers to keep his eyes shut.  A good friend of ours (and also a redhead!) that spent time in NICU while recovering from a stroke mentioned that she wore sunglasses inside from an oversensitivity to light.

The neurological team is hopeful that he will continue to progress as he has been for the past two days.

It was one of the most hopeful days I have had in the NICU but I am super cautious. I have had my hopes dashed very quickly before and I need to take it slow.

I really want to wash James's hair--the tufts that are left appear as if they have far too much hair product on them!  I also want to shave off his beard. I will conspire with one of the nurses that has had the same thoughts as me. Perhaps, in a few days when he has adjusted to the new trachea tube.

I was scolded by the nurse today for not having a mobile telephone. I may cave for the duration of James's hospital treatment. The hospital needs to be able to reach me at all times.  I argued with her that I was stuck on the L train and that was the reason I was not at home or the office--if I had a telephone, it would not have worked in the tunnel either.  She smiled at me, "They have wifi in the stations. You can be political later."  In case you did not know, James and I have never owned mobile phones and had absolutely no plans to ever own one, here is a link to an article, partially about us: https://www.fastcompany.com/3034462/the-case-against-smartphones.

I find it so ironic that I am surrounded by technology that is saving James's life and providing him with comfort. I had to figure out his nano ipod and attachable speaker in order to provide music in his NICU room.  Embracing the devil!  I am writing this blog as a means of communication with all of you that love and care about him. 

I did delete my Facebook account though.  I cannot wait to catch James up to speed on the travails of Facebook. I am curious what he would think since it was a sore point between us.  I am grateful he is taking a break from the presidential debacle.  No need for that in the NICU. We have a nice routine now of listening to the jazz radio station in the mornings. 

I had a terrifically long day.  I squeezed a few hours at the office on top of the hospital day and I need to SLEEP. We had another incredible dinner from the meal train set up by Naomi!  The dinner was truly superb--meatballs in red sauce with a lightly tossed thin spaghetti with asparagus, pesto, and parsley made with love by Julie Pope--kisses to you Julie and Lola--so nice to see you on my stairs this morning with all that love in a bag.  Imogen and I are completely satisfied and ready for bed.

Good night and hope you have dreams free of machines!