Holy moly, we're going home.
Discharge days are the longest, most painful of days. It starts with an early morning first mention of 'getting out of here'. And that's when you know that you're in for a week-long day that may or may not end with you actually going home. Each doctor you're seeing has to sign off on the idea (and that is quite a few people for Collin), which requires hunting them all down, getting their official approval, then getting orders written, prescriptions gathered, and the elusive paperwork completed. Nurses tend to find discharge very annoying for some reason, which makes the process even less enjoyable, since you can tell that they're annoyed that you're asking about discharge but you just can't stop asking.
Collin had a great night last night with fairly good sleep, no seizures, no apnea spells, and no retching. He woke up happy and interactive and after our first couple of doctor consults, we had pretty much determined that it was time to start heading toward home. We decided not to place the tube in Collin's intestine because the possible answers yielded wouldn't have been worth the risks, and since the continuous feeds are going so well, we opted to put off any surgery consults until we've all had some time to rest and think.
So, I spent the day trying to light a fire under people without ticking them off while simultaneously not getting my hopes up. And then, in true hospital fashion, the nurse walked in after hours of waiting and said that we could go get Collin's renal ultrasound (which was supposed to happen at 8:00 this morning) and leave. So Kyle is on his way and then we're out of here.
See you, suckers.