Our family put all the meaning back into the threat, "If you don't eat, I am going to shove that food down your throat!" last week. Will is now fed 800 calories a night through a nasal-gastro tube and a home-care food pump.
It's the happiest tube-fed baby in the world! He is thrilled that there is no more of that hard chewing and bothersome swallowing. (Brigham sometimes refers to him simply as 'Crazy.')
In the Child Life room. I had never seen bubbles before in my entire life. They are wonderful!
The nurse told us that she had never seen a child crawl in and out of the bottom of his crib like Will did, for an hour at a time.
This is him after waking up from his endoscopy (which revealed nothing amiss). I just want to add that my assertions about his determination not to sleep were medically substantiated. He did not fall asleep with the sedative that was supposed to be super fast-acting. Yes, he stopped fighting, but the child was awake. Awake enough, even, to pull the IV containing the sedative from his arm. We had been sent out of the room bc he was supposedly under, but a few minutes later I heard him screaming like crazy (like Crazy?). It was a few minutes before he cut off mid-blood-curdling scream. Tell me again that I should just let him cry it out and he will give up.
I admit that I have often longed to be hospitalized: summer of '02 (to avoid making a decision about where to go to law school); Jan 1999- July 2000 (I was a missionary in South America, but it wouldnt have mattered where)*; the week before Will was born (Andrew was 2); the first few months after Will was born . . . But my hospital fantasy is over forever. It was awful being stuck in there and I couldn't get out fast enough. Will and I finally made a break at 11pm on day 2.
Things are going fine at home. It is actually sort of nice to know that he will get at least 800 calories a day, no question. And seeing the other children who really do have serious illnesses was very sobering. Babies with cancer. Will is doing very well and has not made another attempt at pulling out the tube. He is just the sweetest little thing ever. I sometimes hate to see that tube on his face, but most of the time I don't notice. Its the look of heartbreaking sympathy on the faces of kindly strangers in public places that reminds me. People really are kind. How could then not be?
*just kidding. the only serious one is 2002. I really did fantasize hospitalization then. It would have been a car accident that did no permanent damage, but serious short-term injury. So I could have a few more months to decide. Totally understandable.