We've survived 4-1/2 days!

What's it like running a hospital out of our home? A week ago we would have been paralyzed by the complexity of the equipment, feeding schedule and so on. But we're getting the hang of it.

It certainly feels as if a lot more time has passed since we brought Max home. But it seems that time has not actually slowed down--we're just savoring each second individually, without the soothing balm of routine to make time go by more quickly. Each moment brings a new, and often exciting, incident or challenge.

We are, however, slowly figuring out how everything works. We're making fewer mistakes with the complicated regimen they sent us home with. I'm collecting pictures of the various pieces of technology that we've now mastered so I can put together a guide to the hospital at home.

A couple of nights ago, Max ripped out his ng tube while I was lying next to his crib. I didn't notice for a while (Max actually seemed more comfortable and his monitor didn't go off). But I did eventually catch it, and Carolyn and I successfully reinserted the tube in the deep pre-dawn darkness. Max seemed to take it all in stride.

Carolyn and I took Max to the pediatrician for his first appointment this morning. We brought the pump in its cunning little backpack so he could get a scheduled feed. A little girl in the waiting room commented that "that baby has a band-aid on his nose". He does indeed, and will for the foreseeable future. It was actually a little shocking to see babies without feeding tubes, oxygen and monitors. This was our first public outing with Max; the public reaction wasn't anything I had thought about. There's a breakfast place in the ground floor of the pediatrician's. Carolyn and I dropped by with Max: we had the french toasts, Max had a smiling contest with the waitresses.