CAVEAT LECTOR

Looking back over what I've just written, it occurs to me that the ol' blog has taken a turn for the nastier of late. Don't get me wrong - this is an acknowledgment, not an apology. If the worst thing that happens to the Helgas and Hazels of the world is an unflattering, anonymous blog entry, they're far better off than we are after our encounters with them. Most of the folks caring for Anna and Frankie have been especially conscious of both their physical and mental well-being. Most, but not all. A sad few seem to think that dispassionate skill and expertise can somehow compensate for an absence of compassion. But I'm ranting again. Thankfully, the Helgas and Hazels are the exceptions to the rule. For every Helga there's an Ann, quick to offer sympathetic advice without the condescending, judgmental overtones. For every Hazel there are a dozen nurses making our days glide by as painlessly as possible. On the whole, Anna and I couldn't be happier about Frankie's care in the CHA NICU at Brackenridge. I'm continually amazed by the balletic grace with which the unit functions, the cool ease with which the nurses execute each task, the calming confidence they exude. Anna and I actually feel comfortable, to the extent that's possible, and are glad to be going through this we these particular folks. Frankie is gaining weight, steadily increasing his milk intake (he's up to 4ml/hour), and pooping like it was his job (which it pretty much is). The Reglan has kick-started Anna's milk production, so she's keeping up with the demand spike. She even soaked a pillowcase last night. She's starting to work from home, which is a helpful distraction and a good way to counter-act the depressive side-effects of the Reglan. Our life is slowly approaching normal, or something tolerably close.

There's an awful lot of good news to report. If we use the Department of Homeland Security Advisory System Threat Level Indicator as a guidepost, I'd say Anna, Frankie and I are at Threat Level Green at the moment. The doctors would probably put us at Blue, but I'm pretty sure the nurses would side with me. At least I hope so. If not, they put up a convincing facade. At any rate, we're doing well, all things considered. Don't let my spleen venting fool you. I suppose I'll try and balance things out with a happier tale or two over the next couple of days. Let's hope Frankie cooperates. He's pretty much dictating the direction of the narrative at the moment.