Errol is sound asleep and feeling his narcotics. He's healing already. All is well in our little room.

Fifteen minutes ago, the boy two rooms down passed away. 

I wouldn't have known if I hadn't asked about the partition that suddenly went up outside their room. The nurses hardly paused, the day and nigh shifts are changing, the PICU hums along with energy. 

You can feel the life here on the edge of death.

Award Winner

Errol's nurse said that he was the best urinator of any heart baby she had ever had! I told her he had been practicing. Go Errol! We've already hit a couple of goals here in the PICU. Errol has gotten his breathing tube out, he's off insulin, and we're hoping to get him out of the bed and in arms today. The doctors and nurses are extremely happy with Errol's progress and so are we. We'll keep you updated.

Progress

Errol is resting well and recovering beautifully! The doctors and nurses keep saying that his numbers are great and that he's making wonderful progress. Still, as "perfect" as his vitals are, I'll feel a lot better when he smiles at me.

Curveball

Errol is keeping us on our toes. After a .25 mg injection of morphine Errol looked up at me, his eyes rolled up, and the color drained out of his face. Alarms started going crazy, the word DESAT flashed on the monitor, and six nurses, respiratory therapists, and doctors materialized out of nowhere. Errol had stopped breathing. 

The respiration therapist threw a breathing bag over Errol's mouth and pumped and pumped until he started breathing on his own. The PICU staff is amazing, they didn't even flinch, they brought Errol back from the edge, and then went right back to work like it was no big deal. 

Apparently, the narcotics put Errol and his lungs to sleep. There doesn't appear to be any structural problem with Errol, just a case of a little too much morphine. The nurses and doctors are keeping an even closer eye on Errol, and we'll all breath a little easier when the night is through.  

Recovery

Errol is in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) recovering from surgery. His recovery has been excellent so far, and we've already passed a number of important post-operative milestones. Errol has tons of awful tubes coming out of his body, and it's terrible to see him in pain, but we are making great progress. Thank you for all your thoughts, prayers, messages, and hope! We'll update you as we go.

Surgery Update

Errol is still in surgery but off the heart machine. So far so good. We'll hope to be out of surgery within the hour. More updates later. Thank you all for your support and love.

Surgery

Errol's surgery is scheduled for 11:00 am on Thursday, August 6th. During part of tomorrow's surgery, Dr. Hines will stop Errol's heart, perform a procedure, and then restart Errol's heart. The whole operation should last about four hours, and Dr. Hines made the whole thing sound like a cake walk, but we are totally on edge. Errol, of course, had one of his happiest evenings in memory. Think of Errol tomorrow. 

Pre-Op

Errol's pre-op visit with the amazing, Dr. Hines is tomorrow, Wednesday, August 5th at 1:00. We'll get more details about Thursday's surgery then. Our hearts and eyelids are heavy. We hope Errol's doctors are getting all the sleep we are losing. Errol, of course, is happy as a clam. More updates to follow...

Life With A Celebrity

Going around Winston with Errol is like being in a rock star’s entourage (I guess).

People I’ve never laid eyes on come up and ask Errol how he’s doing (I always answer for him, which may be a bad habit to get into. Then again, if I perfect my ventriloquism it could lead to some interesting conversations.) Errol is definitely one of the biggest celebrities in town and it's rare we go out without a fan stopping him to say hello. 

Recently, on a trip out of town, we stopped for lunch at a cafeteria. As we snaked through the line towards Errol’s first encounter with Jello (he loved it!) many of the patrons smiled, waved, and stopped to talk to him. As a sweet old grandmotherly woman smiled at him, Errol stared blankly into space. I threw my voice and Errol broke his silence, “What are you looking at you, you old bat?” The woman stared back in disbelief and Errol added, “Heard of Botox, Granny?” Errol smiled sweetly.

OK, so I didn’t really throw my voice. One day.

Back at the cafeteria, as our fellow patrons nodded and smiled, I noticed one older woman who kept wistfully looking at Errol. As she passed us she smiled and said, “He’s special.”

“Yes he is.” I said.

“I had a special boy.” She sighed. Her eyes moistened.

“What was his name?”

“Matthew.”

She looked intently at Errol.

“How old was he when he passed away?” I asked.

“He was 32.”

We looked at Errol. She thought for a moment.

“How old is he?”

“Three.”

“They really are so special.” She said.

“Yes they are.” I agreed.

We looked at each other and I looked at her husband who couldn’t look at Errol. She looked back at Errol and then they were gone.

As we finished our meal, I noticed them sitting a few tables away, not talking, stealing glances at Errol.

The world can be so heavy, but it’s lighter when there are others to share the burden with you. 

Some kid

We are full of anxiety and trepidation as we crawl towards Errol's August 6th surgery, but Errol isn't worried. We try to learn from Errol, but still we worry day and night. Last night I dreamed that Owen and I were taking an elevator to get to Errol's hospital room. We went up, and up, and up, past the eightieth floor but there wasn't a button for the floor Errol was on. Then we went to a second hospital, and then a third and kept riding up, up, up, never reaching Errol.

On the other hand, the other day we took Errol and Owen to see Charlotte's Web. When Errol thinks a movie is really funny (most of the time) he chuckles, then turns around to look back at us to make sure we are getting the joke. We got it. He is a joy.