A Second Down Day

As has become our normal routine, I gave Kim a call on my way home from work for a ZAC update. As we began our conversation all sounded bright and hopeful. Kim did report that the last installment of the ibuprofen had been give and that, as the doctors told her, if this doesn’t do the ‘trick’ with Zoe’s heart, they will be trying another medication regimen. This planned course of action will require ZAC to go without a feeding for 3 days. They also report that if this new medication doesn’t work then the surgical option would have to be considered… and that surgery could be as soon as a few weeks from now.

Still, Kim kept up a ‘stiff upper lip and soldiered on’. She then reported that despite the new locale in the NICU, Zoe continues to be ‘moody’ and ‘fussy’ and each noise, turn and prod has resulted in a ‘stat’ decrease. Well, Zoe does recover quickly but a drop is still a drop. And still Kim maintained composure…

… And then the phone rang. The NICU was calling to tell Kim that the scheduled Kangaroo Hold would have to be cancelled tonight. ZAC was just too finicky tonight, and with that the floodgates of anger, doubt, anxiety and tears were unleashed. The ‘strong’ Kim had had enough… now it was time for Kim to be just a disappointed mommy.

Yes, she will still go up to see Zoe tonight… in fact, if memory serves, they are getting Arizona visitors this evening, but the interaction tonight will be limited to just sitting. Tonight there will no touching, no reading, definitely no holding… just sitting and watching Zoe sleep, just sitting and worrying.

Worrying about the next bump, the next bounce, the next hurdle.

I am reminded of some wisdom that my dad shared with me years ago as he was trying to teach me to drive. I remember that as I sat behind the wheel of that big old Ford Fairlane and attempted to navigate down the road, my path was erratic. I would drift to the right, and then to the left, and then back to the right. It was so very hard to keep that ‘tank’ in the center of that tiny lane.

Then my dad asked me, “Where are you looking?”

I told him, “The road… right in front of the car. What do you think I am looking at?”

It was then that he told me the secret of going straight, “Look way off to the front… maybe 300 or 400 feet in front of the car.”, he said.

I did and like magic I centered into my lane as if a magnet were drawing me and I stayed there like I was shot from a rifle.

Dear Kim, as you sit next to Zoe tonight and as you watch her sleep, please try to remember this…

It’s a very long drive. Try to take the long view. Look way down the road, and when that view looks particularly scary, maybe a glimpse into the rearview mirror will help you make it the next mile.

Sleep well Zoe, sleep well Kim.

-ZAC’s GP