Zoe’s WBC counts were at 11.1 today, which is significant for two reasons. One, she has white cells! Reason enough to cheer around here. And two, she is off of her cell growth medication, also known as GCF, and her count is holding steady. She was at 11.8 yesterday, her highest so far.
It will likely go down tomorrow now that she is off completely, but we’re optimistic it might not. Without the stimulation of the growth factor (nurses here call it miracle grow for babies), it may drop by as much as half. Still, we went one day without a drop, so that’s good news.
Zoe is still having regular spit-ups as she processes out the mucus, but the pain appears to be mostly in the past for now. We expect to be taken off of the PCA that controls her pain with the button press any time, and they are trying to move us toward oral meds slowly in anticipation of discharge.
The music therapist and physical therapist both stopped by today, and Zoe did great. She is getting much stronger and closer to being able to sit up on her own in the tripod position, though she is still somewhat unstable, having to spend so much time on her back by necessity. That she is trying is reassuring, as are her attempts to roll over, often thwarted by the tether of tubes dangling from her chest.
I suspect the music therapist cheered me up more than Zoe. He did rousing renditions of Happy and You Know It, Itsy Bitsy, You are My Sunshine and one I really loved but had never heard, called Baby Beluga. Zoe was having a round of coughs and spit, so she was less enthusiastic. Still, by the end she was smiling and waving her hands a bit. Certainly a nice diversion, and I’m grateful they have this sort of thing.
Wandering minstrels with lamb chop sideburns who wear Velvet Underground and Bjork buttons while singing Raffi and classic lullabies are more scarce than they should be, I say.
On a more somber note, one of the kids had to go to the PICU, or Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, last night. She had her transplant a year ago, but was back here for care due to a brain tumor and surgery. It’s been a harsh reminder that things can take a bad turn with such complicated diseases as the kids here are fighting. Hopefully she will be back up here soon and back on track to recovery.
That may be the loveliest rendition of You are my Sunshine I have ever heard. He has a very tender and sweet voice, just perfect for kids – and dads.
She looks beautiful. Great news on the counts and her efforts to keep moving around. Once she feels better and gets rid of so many IV lines, I bet she’ll make some big leaps on the developmental front. She’s a superstar! Love, Mara