Truman on the mend

Tru continues to recover, slowly but surely. Yesterday he was bottle-fed barium (a water soluble contrast medium that shows up on x-rays) so that doctors could follow the passage of food from his mouth to his colon. The hope, of course, was that nothing unusual would be seen. After the initial x-ray (taken while he ingested the barium), Tru endured several subsequent x-rays over the next few hours. The results were good: Truman was put back on feedings today.

Incidentally, while Tru was being bottle-fed the barium that tastes like chalk, he chugged it like he was pledging a fraternity. The radiologist looked on in wonder, offering only "I promise you, that stuff does not taste good." After two weeks of not eating, Truman has probably lowered his culinary standards.

Good test results mean feedings, and Truman guzzled his first feeding of 10 cubic centimeters (2 teaspoons). Our hope is that the feedings lead to more pooping, which will in turn lead to less intestinal discomfort. In that regard, the next few days will be telling. He's starting with 10 ccs and be moved very slowly to larger feeding amounts. Different doctors have different guesses as to how much longer he'll be in the hospital (estimates range from 1 week to 1 month), but our attending neonatologist promises to take the feeding process at a snail's pace. Though we want him home soon, we also want him home healthy. He can take his time.

We think of Fisher everyday. Sometimes we are breathless and wrecked by grief, but occasionally we are buoyed by his memory and the love we still feel. We miss our guy.

Doctors appear very positive about Truman's recovery, but C and I know better than to put the cart before the horse. We monitor him closely, praying for his health.

There were more acts of selfless support for us this week, and others that had escaped my memory, and the list has grown so long that it's nearly comical. The hospital refrigerator was too full of C's milk to accommodate more, so a nurse offered to take some home and store it in her fridge. The medical fellow who'd been with us for weeks bought Tru a Superman onesie. A friend, who happens to be a co-worker, made a donation to the TTTS foundation on Fisher's behalf. The mother of another friend from work wrote us an astonishingly gracious card to express her condolences.

Also, our friends from the improv community have been, much like the rest of our friends, insanely kind. "I've got your back" is a mantra of ours now, and it's one that we picked up from you.

Finally, C's parents left on Friday. They cooked, cleaned, chauffered and entertained us during the most difficult time of our lives. They mothered and fathered us while we did our best to mother and father our boys. They are heroes.

Much love to you. Thank you.

Post-scriptum: several of you have asked if there is any particular charity to which you might donate in Fisher's name. We haven't yet set that up, but we're working on it. Thanks for asking. And to those of you who have already made donations in his name, thanks for giving.