Wiped, again...

Dear Nicky,

Sorry, another time and I'll get you more details. Right now I don't even know what I'm typing.

Love,
Dad

Nice day for all...

Dear Nicky,

Today was a nice day that I'll tell you about later. Sorry, I just can't keep my eyes open.

Love,
Dad

No news is good news...

Dear Nicky,

Nothing to report today. It was pretty quiet. I'm hoping you feel better 100 %.

Love,
Dad

Some dad, huh...?

Dear Nicky,

Here you are back home and on the mend to an amazing degree, and what have I been doing at night? The answer is, just posting a couple lines to my only son because I'm so sleepy that I have to get to bed as soon as I can because I'm falling asleep at my keyboard. Forgive me, my boy. In my defense I must say how exhausting staying at the hospital was, not that there was any alternative in the matter: there was simply no way either Mom or myself was going to leave your side. (We actually did leave your side just a few times, especially the first few hours in the ICU because you were totally out, and it was okay to leave you because your ICU nurse Eunice was on top of things; but after we left the ICU we didn't leave you alone at all.) Hospital rooms are always cold, there's nothing for nonpatients to eat except junk, and the sleeping accommodations are a bitter joke. With alarms going off constantly, who could sleep anyway? So for about a week, Mom and I were like a couple sleep deprived zombies, and we were cranky, dirty, and generally uncomfortable. But our discomfort was nothing compared to yours. After all, you had open heart surgery. I tell you, my boy, the day of your surgery, I could tell when they cut into you. It was as if it were being done to me. But anyway, you made it through with flying colors. The first 24 hours you were totally out, but you very quickly came around. Ironically, the better you got, the more uncomfortable you became, and we couldn't wait to get you out of there. On Tuesday afternoon when they sent us home, we cold tell you were much happier because we put you in your car seat in your stroller, and that means a ride to you. I think you knew we were done at the hospital and were looking forward to getting out of there. That Tuesday was a cold and rainy day, but it was very happy for all of us. The next day was your one-week surgery anniversary, and you were feeling so good you rolled over onto your belly by yourself with no problem. You displayed great awareness and strength that, when your arm was pinned, you were able to unpin it all by yourself. Your appetite has doubled; it's off the charts. You take bottles like the old days. It's actually a little scary, frankly, because it is such a contrast to your behavior immediately prior to surgery. You're taking an increased amount of solids now, too. You're still uncomfortable sometimes, and we give you Tylenol. Also, the docs have you on a couple diuretics, one a liquid ("Lasex"), and the other a pill, which I must quarter then grind the quarter into a powder ("Aldactone"). Both are a challenge to get into you. You still aren't napping much during the day, although you tend to sleep well at night, except that you wake up once a night now at odd times, demanding to be fed. Your new, improved heart is probably making your body go, "Oh, okay, now I get it--I need lots of food!" We really couldn't be happier about your appetite. We've given you a couple bath, and we had to cut your hair; the back was unsalvagably tangled. The bath finally got that strip of tape off your chest today, but the adhesive from the heart monitors is still stuck all over you; that stuff's hard to get off. So you look good, you sound good, and we think you're on your way to really feeling good. Mom and I are so happy, Nick. We're so happy to see you doing better, being strong, eating well, being even pinker than before. We're just so happy! We're taking you to Dr. Solo for a follow-up next week, and I really hope your echo is astonishingly good. It'd be nice to just cross your heart issues off the record, you know? No more worries, wouldn't that be great? Well, I guess I've got us up to date now, so I'll say good night. I'm so proud of how brave and strong you are, through this and so many other times, my little Nick, my son.

Love,
Dad

Sorry, pal...

Dear Nicky,

I'm very sorry. I'm just too tired to write anything these.

Love,
Dad

Just one more time...

Dear Nicky,

I just have to go to bed. I'll write to you with more depth as soon as I can!

Love,
Dad

Ahh, sorry...

Dear Nicky,

I'm sorry pal, but once again I am too tired to write.

Love,
Dad

A very big day...

Dear Nicky,

Well, my boy, tomorrow you go to the hospital for open heart surgery to correct a problem I cannot perceive using procedures I cannot contemplate in order to prevent or ameliorate troubles I cannot understand. Yesterday we were at the hospital for the better part of the day, but today was a quiet day. No Stepping Stones, even. (I don't know who's more grateful for that--you or I.) I hope today was a nice day for you. The weather was nice, and we went out together for a while, something we hadn't done for a while because of the weather and a number of vaccinations and whatnot. It was very pleasant. Later this afternoon, you became quite fussy and whiny because you didn't nap much during the morning or the middle of the day, also you were a little stuffy, which I hope the surgery will ameliorate, among other things. We did have some laughs on the bed as I tickled you. Your laugh is becoming more like a big kid's laugh every time. You did fall asleep on me a few times, and I hope I wasn't too impatient and short with you while you drifted off. Forgive me. I'm scared to death, my boy, my little son, at the thought of what lies ahead for all of us. I'm hoping for the best and that's all I can do. I don't want to look into your bright little eyes and see a trace of fear and pain. I'll just remind you of what we spoke about on the park bench this afternoon: your father is always with you.

Love,
Dad

A day at the hospital...

Dear Nicky,

We spent most of the day at the hospital, getting you checked out. We're so tired, but you were so brave and good.

Love,
Dad

Full examination...

Dear Nicky,

Tomorrow we leave early for the city, a big day of test after test after test I'm afraid. Your surgery is on Wednesday. This date has come far too soon and too fast for me. I'll be honest with you, Nick: I'm scared to death. The past few days, you've seemed especially healthy and vibrant, and the idea of turning my beautiful baby boy over for surgery is driving me mad. I literally cannot think straight. I'm tired and afraid all the time, my boy, even though I shouldn't be because the doctors are great and the hospital is great and afterwards you're going to come back to us even better than before. Plus, you'll have a really cool scar that chicks will dig. Oh my boy...

Love,
Dad

Forgive me...

Dear Nicky,

Pardon me, my boy but Im about to fall sleep. I'll write more tomorrow.

Love,
Dad

Rainy Friday...

Dear Nicky,

Well, it rained all day. Many parts of New Jersey and indeed the northeastern part of the country are flooded. You've woken up pretty early the past couple days, and we've gotten some formula into you right away and you pound it just like old times, and you've eaten well over the entire course of the day, so I guess your internal clock or whatever was just resetting itself or something. A photographer your mother works with came over this afternoon to take some pictures of all three of us to possibly use on Christmas cards. It turns out she was a very bigshot photographer in her day. She's taken pictures of many famous musicians and actors. She took 83 pictures of us today. They look really nice, but I don't think we can use them as is because you stuck your tongue out in every single shot. It's not your fault, though. The photographer was late and you were due for a nap, so you were really tired and we were handling you like a sack of potatoes, so don't even worry about it.

Love,
Dad

Nice day inside, at least...

Dear Nicky,

Outside it was crummy all day--rainy, windy, and cold. Stepping Stones was closed for Yom Kippur, a Jewish holiday. We didn't go anywhere. And that was nice. I think you liked it, too, because you were really great today. Yesterday you got a Synagys shot, which is supposed to protect you from RSV, a bad virus. You usually have reactions to immunizations but not this time. Today you ate like the old Nick, pounding your bottles with no leftovers. And you endured a bunch of tummy time without complaint. You even got a couple hours' worth of napping in there. It certainly was the day for it. It almost makes me wonder if you've been sick or something because you seem better after a long time with some degree of difficulty. It's most likely teething. I wish they'd hurry up and get here, darn teeth!

Love,
Dad

Sorry, peewee...

Dear Nicky,

I'm sorry, pal. It's one of those times I'm too tired to write. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Love,
Dad

Winding down...

Well, everyone at Stepping Stones wishes you the best for your surgery next week. You won't be going there for a few weeks. I'd say you ate pretty well today, which is good. You were kind of fussy, but not bad, and you did well with Lonnie, who may never see again. Tomorrow you get a Syngys shot, to keep you from catching some kind of bug, who knows? Anyway, I hope it's not so powerful you have a reaction to it, and that prevents you from getting your surgery next week. That would not be cool. Shelby will be here in the morning, and hopefully she will have spoken to Jessica, and the two of them have compared note. I was pretty tired this afternoon. I think giving blood wiped me out more than I thought. I hope you don't need it.

Love,
Dad

ENT, and bloodwork...

Dear Nicky,

This morning we went to see Dr. Berg, who said your ears are okay. Actually, he said you still have fluid in one, but the other one, the left one, is clear. This latter he discerned by sucking out a big wad of wax that was blocking his view of your eardrum. Neither ear shows any sign of infection, and he said unless you start getting ear infections a lot, it's not such a pressing thing to think about. He's right about that; there are bigger things to worry about. Later, you stayed home with Granny while Mom and went to give blood so that you have a little supply if you need it in surgery. It turned out that Mom couldn't donate because years ago she spent some time in England, and theoretically could have contracted mad cow disease. Mine was okay to use, but some paperwork was delayed and that made it take longer. When they were finally ready, they got a pint out of me in six minutes. I felt anxious and uncomfortable the whole time, and because it was blood-related I felt especially squeamish. Brrr!

Love,
Dad

A cure for congestion...

Dear Nicky,

You're awfully stuffy these days. Part of the reason for this is your heart condition, the other part might be due to weather or environment or the physical structure of your nose. Tomorrow we're going to an ENT doc (that's ears, nose, and throat) to have him take a look at you. Then Granny's going to watch you while I go into the city to give blood for your surgery. I can barely even think about it.

Love,
Dad

Green beans...

Dear Nicky,

We added green beans to your repertoire this afternoon. You didn't seem to care for them initially, but you warmed up to them eventually. You're such a good boy and a good eater. You're learning to open your mouth in expectation and bring your jaw together to feed. We think this all good. Outside was a lousy day all day. It was rainy, windy, and warm. These are nice atmospheric conditions when you're in Hawaii, but they make for a muggy, sweaty, and generally unpleasant day in Hoboken, New Jersey. We're sort of working our way back to midnight feedings again, at least until after you get your heart fixed. Y'see, the addition of solids and the condition of your heart has caused your formula consumption to go down, which makes us worried that you're not getting enough fluids or nutrition. So, it's almost chow time!

Love,
Dad

The time...

Dear Nicky,

Well, the time has come where we've actually met with the surgeon and set a date for your heart repair. Mom and I knew this time would come sooner or later, we knew the surgeon and the hospital are world class, and we're still pretty scared. I was hoping, I guess, that they would tell us that you wouldn't need any surgery, that your heart defect had healed itself. Of course that's not the case. Your heart needs to be fixed. I think fixing it will cure a multitude of problems, so we all have that to look forward to. Nothing is likely to go wrong, and yet I feel out of my mind with worry. The physical procedures are...mind-numbing, but everything seems to indicate that the surgeon is a genius. He's got no bedside manner, though, and he seemed quite brusque when we met him, but I don't suppose you can be a sweet, sensitive guy and be capable of temporarily stopping a baby's heart in order to fix it.

Love,
Dad

Q's been expecting you, Mr. Bond...

Dear Nicky,

Tomorrow we go see the famous Doctor Q at Columbia. You'll be getting a new echocardiogram and we'll see what's what. I know you'll have to have your heart fixed, my dear son, but I still can't stand the thought of it. On a lighter note, today you had a pretty good day. Stepping Stones started out well, but you got tired toward the end. You ate very well today, were less fussy, and did very well with your own OT this afternoon. I think you're just not a morning person. I think you get that from me. I hope all goes well with your echo tomorrow.

Love,
Dad

Shots...!

Dear Nicky,

You were very uncomfortable today, I'm afraid. You see, yesterday you got a bunch of shots at the doctor's office, including a flu shot. Now, while all these shots are safe to take together, they work their magic by making you sick for a little while. And unfortunately that's what happened today. You ran a little fever, and on top of that you're teething, your ears have fluid in them, and you got introduced to a new cereal: oatmeal. I'm sorry you didn't feel well today. I gave you some baby Tylenol and I think that helped. You were fussy and cranky and whiny, but still immensely charming at times. I hate all the hard things we have to put you through. But you are an amazingly strong and brave little kid. Many times I prayed that I could bear some of your burdens for you, but that never came to pass. I'll try to do the best I can to help you with them.

Love,
Dad

Human pincushion...

Dear Nicky,

Sorry, pal, but today we went to the docs' office, who gave you your six month evaluation. Basically you're okay. You've got a few things we're going to have to take care of eventually, but we'll take care of them and you'll be good to go. You also got five shots today, including one flu shot, which you'll have to get a booster for in another month. But before that you'll get your first Synygys shot in about a week and a half. You're like a little pincushion. I stroked your little head while the nurse gave you your shots. I'm sure it hurt like crazy, but you were very brave. I stroked you and kissed you and it was very sad to see your eyes lock on me as if to say, "Help me!" or "Why are you doing this?" That's tough to bear somewhat, I will admit. But your strength and courage are an inspiration!

Love,
Dad

Still house hunting...

Dear Nicky,

Mom and I went to look for houses today. We took you out to Granny's first and dropped you off so we wouldn't have to wear you out by toting you all around these strange houses. Our agent's name is Dena, and we met her in the parking lot of a church in New Providence and got in her car and drove all over the place. We saw a couple nice houses in some nice neighborhoods, but they were "just okay" nice, not supernice. The best actual house we saw was a new construction in Chatham. It was really pretty nice, but the thing is that it's a new construction on the lot of a previous tear-down, which is where you buy a house strictly for the land and tear it down and build a new house from scratch. Sounds like a waste of money to me, but if people can afford it that's what they do. Anyway, the house was quite nice, but the problem was that it was way nicer than the other houses in the neighborhood. Who wants to live in a garish house in a humble neighborhood? The karma didn't seem right. The last one we saw was good but small, plus the wooden floors squeaked like crazy. The pluses didn't really outweigh the minuses. As for your day, I hope it went well and that you weren't too uncomfortable. Granny can be a little lazy sometimes, and says things like, "Well, no, I didn't give Nick his bottle because he didn't ask for it." I hope it wasn't too bad for you. Mom's side of the family is somewhat lacking in some genetic coding that accounts for practicality and sensitivity. But then, my side has way too much of it, so maybe it'll all balance out in you. You got no cereal today, which really promoted effective formula consumption on your part, so that goes to show that you're still a little engine of effective eating, and that's always good to know!

Love,
Dad

Supersuit...

Dear Nicky,

Forgive me for the past few posts when I've been too tired to say much. Sometimes the day gets away from me, and at the end I'm falling asleep at my keyboard. It is October 1st today. The days are cooler and shorter, and the sun is lower in the sky and casts a glaring light without a lot of heat. Fall is my least favorite season. But one good thing about fall is that in October we have Halloween. We recently received your Halloween costume, a Superman suit. It looks really good. It's made out of fleece so it's nice and warm, and it comes with a cape. We washed the suit but not the cape, because the cape has the Superman emblem glued on rather than sewn on, and it would probably come off or otherwise get wrecked in the wash. Not much else is going on. It was a pretty uneventful day, I suppose. The combination of teething and solid food seems to be messing up your formula intake, which is expected but no less worrisome, I'm afraid. Tomorrow, Mom and I are going to look at houses again, but this time we're going to drop you off at Granny's first. That way we don't tire you out, and ourselves, by toting you into these strange, sometimes crowded little houses that people want to sell for so much money. Good luck at Granny's, pal.

Love,
Dad