What a difference a couple of days makes. This picture is from Tuesday night.

And here's one from tonight.

Extreme close-up! Aahhhh!
At about noon, Quinn was switched to the hi-flow nasal cannula, all steps toward breathing unassisted. And so far so good. The tape was left on his nose in case he needed to go back on the CPAP, but it's looking promising. I was there this evening, so it had been several hours at that point. His O2 was increased to 30% for this change, but that's not unusual. Before that, it had been 27 or lower, so we're still headed in the right direction. He isn't 4 lbs yet. He didn't gain anything yesterday. But hopefully tomorrow we'll break that barrier. He's getting the same amount of milk (my milk!) with the new fortifier, which comes up from the dietary lab in a half-gallon milk jug, and then the milk is added to it. Sounds really scientific, doesn't it.

The tigress in me is getting awfully tired of being on constant battle alert. I got a call from a nurse practitioner today saying that they don't think it's a good idea to transfer Quinn next week because the ophthalmologist doesn't go to the other hospital, and he wants to see Quinn again in 2 weeks to follow his progress. The NP said Quinn would have to ride back in an ambulance, so he might as well just stay where he is. I fought to not chew her out right then and there, so I didn't say anything. Then I asked why that was such a big deal, and she said if it's determined at his next appointment that he needs more monitoring for his eyes, then he'll need to be admitted back, and the transfer would have been pointless. She said it's possible he might need to have this condition monitored weekly for awhile. Ironically, if he were sent home, we'd simply bring him back for these appointments, just like you would anyone else. But because he's an inpatient, you can't just take him in a car. That spells lawsuit. She said insurance wouldn't cover the ambulance ride. I told her I would be willing to pay for that if it meant getting him closer to home. She said the money wasn't the only issue. It's the fact that the ambulance is needed and "That's not a good use of their resources." "Oh, but my resources don't matter?" I asked. I was obviously quite ticked at that point. "No, that's not entirely true..." Maybe not entirely, but there is truth in it, admit it. Parents don't matter to them. The most important people in the team of caregivers don't matter to them. We're the most important because, despite our lack of knowledge and know-how, we are the ones who will live with any and all long-term consequences of what is done to our child. Once he's discharged, he's out of their lives, and they won't know what happens to him. But if I allow something to be done that happens to be the wrong decision, guess who will live with it as long as she lives? I'm already harboring an enormous amount of guilt for how poorly my pregnancy went. I don't want anything else added to that list. I finally told her I wasn't going to agree to anything right then, that I needed to take the time to calm down before that happened, and since this isn't a decision to made immediately, I would take that time. She agreed, and that was that. Now honestly, it's a new curve ball everyday in the quest to break him out of there. We hadn't heard that the ophthalmologist of all people would be the one to hold things up. One of the thousands of people who have poked, prodded and pained our baby whom we've never met. I'm contemplating taking up residency at the hospital until Quinn is discharged. Despite what is going on at home that I do feel like I need to be there for my older kids, the events of the last week have made it abundantly clear that I'm needed by all three of my kids. I'm not quite sure how all this will work out just yet, but I think that's what needs to happen. Wish me luck and pray for improved vision, literally in Quinn's case, and figuratively for the rest of us.