Day 41: Thomas Is Extubated for the Third Time

Duplicated from our CaringBridge site for permanent record here.

December 28 2020, written by Mama

Monday was peaceful. Thomas began the day still intubated from surgery on Saturday  night. 

I had slept in the private Sleep Room, but when I walked into the room at 5:45 a.m. and Thomas heard my voice, his eyes flew open big. He knew his Mama's voice and I swear, I believe he knows it somewhere inside when I'm not in the room.

Reading Frog and Toad to my boy

Thomas got transferred to a high-up-in-the-sky gurney in order to have his PICC line place during an in-room procedure.

It was a sterile procedure, so I was asked to leave. For the first time, I decided to take a walk along the creek by the hospital. Unfortunately, I had not thought to bring my coat, so I lasted 15 minutes in the 34-degree weather before skedaddling back inside to read my book in the lobby.

Thomas ended his day after a successful and easy extubation. All he has is a little supplemental oxygenfor precaution.

One of the aspects of writing so much online and begging of your prayers is considering how much to share or not share with our loved ones and, by default, the public: Caring Bridge and my 14-year-running blog are a window into our home, but we don't live in a glass house. 

Now we choose to share that one added strain to our family is that Chris is voluntarily and sacrificially isolating at home.  This also means that I, too, have chosen to isolate at the hospital and stop going home. My children had just started to experience visits from Mama again, yet those visits have now stopped, which the littlest ones cannot understand.

The week before Christmas, Chris and John had a brief outdoor-only visit from a father and son friend.  The father’s wife (who wasn’t at our house) had minor sniffles and later that day tested positive for the coronavirus.  Subsequently, the asymptomatic father also tested positive a couple days later. 

The visit, being a brief outdoor-only visit, didn’t meet the definition of “exposure” (close contact with an infected person for a sustained 15-minutes or more), however, considering how incredibly delicate Thomas is at the moment, we chose to act with increased caution.  

Chris and John have both tested negative on two tests each and are waiting on the results of a third.  They do not have any symptoms, but are still isolating as a precaution.

After Thomas was extubated, I called his Daddy on video call, but when Thomas saw his Daddy, he burst into sobbing tears: surely he misses him.  I know this is breaking dad’s heart as well. 

For weeks, we have isolated as a family due to this very possibility. We pulled our kids from hockey, youth orchestra, choir, Fraternus and Fidelis, all the annual Christmas social events, all new tempting invitations, and --what the kids say is the worst sacrifice of all-- even attending Mass. Frankly, our family is isolating as much or more than the staff here in this very hospital. (Hey, local friends: my children at home would really enjoy some phone calls and FaceTime dates with pals.)

We informed the hospital staff of our situation (which most visitors here likely do not do) and requested an opinion of the Infection Prevention department. We also consulted multiple outside, private medical opinions. We are working with the recommendations of Infection Prevention, that of the various other medical staff here, the governmental guidelines online, and our own consciences to make risk mitigation decisions on how to proceed.

Our hearts have been further strained and burdened because of this. Honestly, my blood pressure, panic attacks, tears, and other symptoms have increased because of having to endure this latest emergency without the strength of my husband or my being able to take even a short respite at home. 

As much as we disagree with the governmental and media exploitations of this virus for the general public, we find ourselves in the unenviable position of having exactly one of those extremely vulnerable family members who actually needs to be shielded from as many risks as possible. Even a mild cold could be gravely dangerous for Thomas.

We cannot control the unknowns or the unavoidables-- we still need nurses and doctors to come in from the outside world (where respiratory bugs run free) to treat Thomas-- but we can control the knowns, so we have voluntarily taken on this burden.