Anders is having trouble keeping the oxidation level above 80% (the magic percentage) in his lungs today. If it weren't for all the damn machines beeping, it wouldn't seem like anything was wrong with him. More accurately, he was all over the place. He was have good oxidation, then it would fall, they would increase his oxygen, and then he would have too much oxygen so machines would beep, then they would lower the oxygen levels on the machines until he was again at room oxygen levels, and then he would go low again and the process would repeat. Faulkner would be proud of that sentence.
Today was a normal day in the life of a premature baby, but it is still hard on us. In the grand scheme of premature baby problems, this is a minor and expected blip. On an intellectual level, we understand what is happening as part of a larger process, but we live and die with each monitor and beep that goes off for our baby. Thus, we continue to try to limit our exposure to the hospital. It's hard because we love seeing Anders, but that environment is wearing on us. The shock is wearing off and being around all that intense beeping and medical business is becoming harder to bear than last week.
I look forward to the move to Southdale. I heard it's a lot quieter than here. Also, that will mean he's a bit more independent.
In other news, Anna's cousin and wife had their baby, a girl, which makes Anders the only boy of the three Carlson great grandchildren born this year, a distinction I'm sure he will wear well.
I've decided Anders has a mischevious glint in his eyes (imagine Anna's eyes were she capable of misbehaving).
I have planned Anders' future or created a story for his future more likely. I'll share that in another post...
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