Zoe on the Main Line

Big exciting news in the ZEN universe is that Zoe's hickman line will be removed on August 11th.

I've been itching for it to come out; its usefulness has been waning with the growing gaps between blood draws. And when I think on it too much, I cringe with the thought that these dangling tubes Zoe constantly play with tap into a vein that goes directly to her heart.

I thought it was Dr. Carpenter's call to determine its removal date, but Zoe's pediatrician said that it was within her jurisdiction as well, and agreed that its removal would be a good thing since its benefits no longer outweighed the risks.

Zoe could have gotten it removed sooner than August 11th, but lines are only removed on Tuesdays--and only two per Tuesday at that. So, she's got the first available slot, which puts her on August 11th.

When her Hickman goes away, so will the daily line flushes, the twice daily blood thinner injections, the weekly dressing changes, and the line protection protocol prior to bath time (the inconvenience of which has unfortunately rendered Zoe rarely bathed).

Hot diggity dog.
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Zoe has started to try and imitate words said to her. It's a particularly interesting process since she can't watch us and see how we are forming the words with our mouths.

Her ability to imitate relies on her understanding how sounds we make relate to all of the various babbling sounds she makes on a regular basis. A plastic "pitcher" handed to her went through the rapid name evolution of "dada" to "dida" to "geetcha". It all happened through a quick succession of my stating the word and Zoe attempting to say it more correctly with each effort.

I remember as a child not hearing certain words in detail. I would call a signal a "sigunal" and not be able to understand why my mother kept telling me I was saying it wrong; I couldn't hear the difference between the two pronunciations. I think about this and imagine that Zoe has more of a limit to what she can do verbally since she can't see my mouth form the words. Mama is "Nana"--and no amount of prolonging the "m" gets her to understand that there is a difference between the two words.

Humorously enough, "nana" is also how she says "nose".

Yep, that's me--Nana with the nana. My nose follows me everywhere...
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This evening was quite the unique experience for us: we went to Seattle Children's Hospital as visitors for the very first time.

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from an old high school friend, Ryan, that I had reconnected with at the 10 year reunion. Ryan lives with his wife and 8 week old baby girl in Kalispell, Montana. The call yesterday was hurried and bewildered; Ryan's wife and daughter were to be flown ASAP to Seattle Children's as they had just ascertained that Ava, his daughter, had a rather serious heart defect that needed to be fixed right away.

Ryan called me within hours of the diagnosis and I was transported to that place, last August 26th, when our lives as parents got pushed over the precipice--just as theirs were in free fall at that very moment.

His voice, his shock and the sound of a psyche in overdrive were all too familiar. They were coming here--and by god, did we know how to support them!

All of the love and care that you all have shown us have been waiting for opportunities to be paid forward, and walking up to the Giraffe entrance with dinner for our friends felt like a sacred honor that you all have passed on through us.

Thank you.