The Audacity of Hope.

When I called the NICU in the wee hours of yesterday morning, Simone was doing well.
“No, no blood in her urine,” said the nurse, “And they said she had some bruising on her groin? And that her leg was dusky? But I don’t see anything like that.”
My god, I thought blearily, she’s got the wrong baby.
Oh no, oh no! wheezed my breastpump.

But when I arrived at the hospital I saw that the nurse was right: Simone’s bruising, so dramatic just the day before, was all but invisible, and her left leg was pinker and measured the same as it had the previous morning. Her creatinine was still up, and her urine output was irregular, but at rounds I discovered that the plan was one I was familiar with from my time on bedrest: Wait and See.

Allow me to recap the subsequent conversation:
ME: But shouldn’t we do something about the object in her AORTA?
DOCTOR: It isn’t obstructing blood flow, and hopefully it will either dissolve on its own or be incorporated into the vessel wall.
ME: But her KIDNEYS! Surely we should do something about her KIDNEYS?
DOCTOR: We’ll do another ultrasound in a few days. Hopefully her creatinine will have come down by then.

There seemed to be an awful lot of hoping involved, for a science, but I am only an editor, so what do I know? Sure, it seemed strange to go from Monday’s STAT ultrasounds to a sort of medical Bartles & Jaymes commercial, but again, I don’t pretend to understand everything, even in my own field. Apparently the word “the” is an adjective. Who knew.

So I sat around yesterday watching Simone uneasily and waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, except that I noticed that my daughter’s adorable jowls make her look like a tiny Angela Lansbury.

Today, however, her creatinine is still up, and so Nephrology is coming over from the university to consult. Hopefully this means we will get more information about what is going on with her kidneys, and whether there is permanent damage as a result of Monday’s possible thrombotic meteor shower. Hopefully I can avoid accidentally referring to the Nephrologists as Phrenology (those similar phonemes will be the death of me). And after some dreadful chest x-rays, Simone is now being treated for pneumonia, a diagnosis which, like the existence of god, CANNOT BE PROVEN. So hopefully antibiotics will clear that—whatever it is—right up.

Now I need a cookie. Dipped in bourbon.