Back in the CPCU

Gosh. I can't believe it's been two days since I posted anything.

And how long has it been since I used the word, "Gosh"?!

Anyway, to the point.  Sam had a long, difficult, but good day today. This morning, they pulled his chest tubes and an IV from his foot.  This afternoon, they pulled his pacemaker wires and changed his chest dressing. This evening, they pulled his central line.  Woof. That's a lot of painful moments for one day.

On the brighter side, we were moved to the Cardiac Progressive Care Unit (CPCU).  That means one step closer to home.  And while he didn't love the trip over, since he got here, he's been happier not to be messed with so much.  He keeps asking "Am I all done yet?"  He also took another walk and got to choose a toy from the "treasure chest."  He picked the "purple flowers."  A lei with green and gold trim. Kid looks like he just got back from Mardi Gras. Nice.

A bit premature, perhaps, for that sort of celebration, but it's a good start.

Wow, just now I almost wrote, "Here's to continued good days," but I couldn't.  I've been thinking a lot today about my inability to accept the smooth progress so far. Every time someone calls Sam a "rock star," or says, "Yeah, you'll be out of here soon," I flinch a little. In some cases, I correct them: "So far, so good," I say, "but who knows what is yet to come."  Maybe it's because I've heard those songs so many times before that I don't trust them.. Maybe it's because our first time through (the Norwood and the Glenn), hearing the screech of a needle across an old LP was more common than the sweet song of home . So I remain stoic.  It's been a good day so far. I'm glad Sam has progressed as well as he has. But I have little interest in embracing an uneventful journey through the CI, the CP, and then home until it actually happens. And, frankly, even then the little man is going to have to earn my trust back slowly and over time.

I'm looking forward to that time. In the meantime, day by day...hour by hour.  Good night, all. Right now, Sam is sleeping sweetly in a room in the CP far, far away from the trauma of the surgery itself. Let that be the thought of the moment.