Max's fontanel has really felt quite full to us over the past few days. This past Tuesday, Dr. J. found that his head circumference had increased 0.75 inches in the previous week. Taken together, the evidence suggests that Max isn't pulling off the incredible last-minute change in his body chemistry he would need to avoid a shunt. Our next appoint with the Children's phrenology service is a week from Monday. The long drama of Max's flirtation with hydrocephalus is probably drawing to a close, while an exciting new book on managing an indwelling shunt is about to begin.
I knocked off work early today and got home in time to give Max his bath and put him to bed. After a week of only seeing him during the night shift, I was struck again by how fundamentally happy he is. He seems to find the world a source of endless delight. I tried to get a picture of him flashing his trademark gaping grin or his delighted laugh, but like many children he gets very solemn when the camera comes out.
Instead, I took a picture of Max on his wedge trying to get to sleep. This is the one part of the day where he's really quite unhappy. It's the start of the night shift, I suppose. Max "swims" on his wedge, churning his arms and legs around, while Carolyn or I try to soothe him. He eventually settles down and sleeps quite deeply for the first part of the night.
Here is a picture of Max swimming on his wedge:
