Extubated

Izzy was finally extubated in the morning and she is breathing on her own, even though she is still receiving oxygen for respiratory support. She could have been extubated yesterday, but she decided otherwise. Beanie thought she would rather just sleep through the day and not breath over the ventilator, except for a brief period of time when she got mad at an unsolicited diaper change and showed us who is boss. While Beanie was on la-la land, her neurologist came by and programmed her VNS device. Between the gastrostomy button in her tummy and the VNS gadget in her chest, I feel like we have a bionic baby.

The Bionic Bean is getting breathing treatments every two hours and she is still on several antibiotics and a host of different medications, just about enough to start a small drug dealership. She is off the heavy-duty sedatives, which is causing some withdrawal symptoms, but nothing Trainspotting-like. She still needs medication for the pain left behind by the breathing tube and the surgery, and she has some wheezing and stridor due to the swelling in her trachea. Her breathing sounded Darth Vaderesque this morning but by now it turned into more of a squeaky door sound.

Beanie is being her smiley, laid-back, friendly self although she keeps an eye on every medical professional who enters the room, making sure they are not up to something suspicious. The respiratory therapists usually get the stink-eye after they commit a suctioning against her, but she quickly forgives them.

She was happy to see me after the extubation, and I didn't get any attitude or smacking-around for what we have put her through. However, I was really afraid that she would just pop from excitement when she saw Daddy, the subject of her utmost adoration. It's okay, I'm really not jealous at all for being the third-wheel in their love affair. Besides, I got to hold her a bit in the afternoon, so there.