She didn’t really improve last night. She was on oxygen all night and stayed stable. But there was no improvement. And really her breathing became more and more labored throughout the night. And she’s still throwing up constantly.
So, we’ve been moved to the Special Care Unit. Which is good for her and for her recovery but it is hell for Kelley and I because we aren’t able to be with her except for spotty times throughout the day.
She’s so pitiful right now. And there’s nothing that we or the doctors and nurses on our floor have been able to do to make her better. All we can do is make our best efforts to comfort her.
It’s emotionally wrenching.
We just handed off our little baby girl to a group of strangers as they walked behind closing doors while we are forced to sit in a waiting room with strangers huddled up in make-shift beds of paired-up chairs, hiding under blankets and coats waiting to hear something good.
A doctor just came out to have a conversation with another parent about her RSV stricken child. His words to her: “He should get better.” Really? Should? That’s not what I want to hear.
Oh, wait… they’re calling us back.