Now that I’m feeling better, I’ve become rather expressive.
Smiles are free and talk is cheap. But I need people cribside to ensure my socialization needs are met. So I’ve developed a strategy.
It starts with a large hairbow. Today’s selection was provided by my nurse Kathleen. She did a little shopping at TJMaxx to restock the dress-up closet with some additional headwear. Normally there is an annual fundraiser at the PCICU for accessories and clothing. These items are available for parents in the unit. Due to Covid, this year’s fundraiser was cancelled. So Nurse Kathleen occasionally buys things for her patients. Which tells you something about the caliber of the staff working in the unit.
Anyways, while people are distracted by the large hairbow, I slowly raise my left hand and grab the nasal cannula. It’s a subtle motion but my mom caught it on camera. See it?
I proceed to pull the nasal cannula out of my nose while kicking my legs vigorously. This effective 1-2 punch strategy usually triggers the pulse-ox alarm. Oxygen saturation is a big deal around here. So within moments a nurse comes into the room. Sometimes two. They pause the alarm, reset the probe, and replace the nasal cannula.
And then, they’re mine.
One look at these cheeks and they’re hooked. I’ve got a short routine. A couple of coos. A smile. Maybe a series of sneezes. Good stuff. Eventually the nurses go back to work. And the cycle begins again. The night nurses report that I can go into the wee hours.
Put all together, it looks like this. Hairbow – Grab – Nurse – Good time.
Now that I spend more time on my tummy, the strategy has evolved. Using my head as a blocker, the nurse on the other side of the curtain doesn’t have a chance. In this situation the head bow requirements are less robust.
I’ve even got a small Tiger Woods-esque fist bump to celebrate each victory over Team PCICU.
Clever baby. Happy baby.