It started out as a good day. When Mommy mentioned the Belgian waffles that 'Nise had made and frozen for me, I decided that I wanted one with peanut butter, and I wanted them like YESTERDAY! The adults in the parent lounge cracked up when they saw me and heard how bossy I was to Mommy, who was quickly attempting to heat up the waffle in a microwave that didn't work well. Gobbling up 3/4 of it back in our room, my tummy felt full.
Mommy and Daddy put me through a terrible bath in the "bathtub room" again. I showed them, though. While the doctors were doing rounds right outside the bathtub room, I screamed my head off so that they couldn't hear each other talk. We got lots of looks when we walked out. I enjoy my baths at home, but it's just different here (in more ways than one).
Nanna B. was waiting in our room when we returned, but lots of other nurses were there, too. Uh, oh... I could feel that something bad was going to happen. When they moved my crib out, laid me on my back in it, and Mommy, Daddy, and Nanna B. put masks on, I knew I was right.
I'm going to leave out the details of the nurses changing my PICC line dressing, but let me just say that it was by far the most traumatic event of my life so far. Nanna B., Mommy, and Daddy were all visibly shaken by the experience, and I sobbed for a good hour afterward. I sure hope Daddy can talk with the parent advisory council to make sure I don't have to go through that pain again.
Right before nap time, our room transfer finally went through. You see, they've been doing construction work right next to our room. The workers banged on the walls and floor on and off throughout the evening, really picked up at midnight, stopped for a little while, started up again at 7am, and kept going throughout the morning. Dr. Wood, who is vocally challenged (as she puts it), had difficulty projecting her voice during rounds so that all of us could hear her. The music of buzzsaws during my PICC line dressing change was quite calming, too, by the way.
Mommy and the nurses packed up all of our things (we have TONS), and Nana rocked me until we were ready to relocate to room 44. I was wiped out after all of the activity, so I took a little rest in my crib. While I was sleeping, though, Mommy left, and Great Nana and Great Papa came to visit.
Apparently, Mommy and Daddy were going to take Lily to a movie (Beverly Hills Chihuahua) and then spend the night with her at our house. How unfair is that?! I want to go to our house and sleep in my own bed! From what Nana says, Lily's misses Mommy and Daddy and needs to spend something called "quality time" with them. But I need them!
They pain team (what a tough-sounding group) put me on a PCA pain pump. This machine gives me a low dose of morphine constantly; but then if I have too much pain, someone can push a button for me, and I will get a little more. They can push it once every ten minutes if they need to. Mommy and Daddy had talked to Dr. Pope yesterday, and she said that having a low-dose morphine drip might improve the way I feel by avoiding the extreme highs and lows that the single doses of morphine had been giving me.
Don't read the next part if you're eating right now...
Shortly after they started me on the pain pump, I ate dinner (a pretty good one actually), but then I threw it up. I handled it well, with the exception of being mad at my pacifier getting messy. Once Nana got me cleaned up, I had what they referred to as "explosive diarrhea" two times. Poor Nana! She went through lots of wipes.
Nana requested that they put me on a monitor, because she was a little worried about how I was acting since being put on the pain pump. I guess they were supposed to hook me up to a monitor when they started the pump, but for some reason, they didn't do it. Worried that my heart rate kept dipping so much, they took me off the low, steady dose of morphine in the middle of the night.