It turned out, there was more that could be done. By the next
morning, Danny’s condition had gotten worse. His oxygen lev
els were desaturating despite maximal ventilator support. His
blood pressure had stopped responding to the medications he was
on. A third blood pressure medication was added. Multiple bags
hung off the IV poles—plasma, platelets, clear IV fluid, yellow
IV fluid. Sophie counted nine IV lines running into the three IV
sites in his arms and feet. There was a single line placed on the
inside of his right wrist: an arterial line for frequent blood draws
and accurate oxygenation readings, Kim explained.
“Now it’s just a matter of time for his blood pressure to
respond.”
At twenty-four hours, there was no improvement.
“Dr. Sheldon, what does this mean?” Sophie asked. “You said
he should be turning the corner by now. What’s wrong with him?”
Dr. Sheldon answered, “We just have to wait.”
At forty-eight hours, things were bleak. The medication drips
and ventilator settings only went up as Danny’s infected body
demanded more support to stay alive. One minute his blood pres
sure started to come up; the next minute it dropped. Sophie and
Adam stood vigil over Danny, refusing to leave his side, unable
to speak the words what if . . . ?
“Would you two please go lie down somewhere?” Kim said.
“You’re both walking zombies. I promise I will get you as soon as
there’s a change.”
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JULIE HATCH
“No way,” they said at the same time.
“You haven’t had anything to eat in almost three days. You can’t
subsist forever on coffee, you know. I’ll give you vouchers for food
in the cafeteria.” Kim handed them a handful of vouchers, which
remained untouched on the counter next to Danny’s warmer.
Sophie called Kate and told her about Danny’s situation.
“Kate, I don’t know if he’s going to make it. I honestly don’t
know, and it’s killing me,” she said through her tears.
“I’ll get the next train out of Boston.”
“No, not yet. You won’t be allowed to come in and see him
anyway. He’s too sick. I’ll keep you posted. Just please pray for him.”
“You know I will. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”
At seventy-two hours, Danny was no better, but he was hanging
on. The morning rounds discussion on Danny lasted for over
an hour. Doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and pharmacists
all were involved.
Softly, Adam said, “Sophie, remember I told you I can tell
when the doctors think a baby is circling the toilet bowl of death?
Well, I think that could be our case now.” His voice was thick
with emotion.
They held each other’s hands, desperately clinging to each
other and to the hope that something would change. Tears
streamed down their faces. Their son was dying.
The one thing Sophie refused to let go of was hope, and she
and Adam held tightly to it. Just as Kim had said to Sophie
weeks ago, hope is what prevails in the NICU. Eighteen hours
later and nearly four days after the blood transfusion, Danny’s
blood pressure rose and stayed there. Kim stopped one of the
blood pressure medications. A small amount of urine came out
of his catheter. His color started to improve as his heart started
to recover. They switched him from the jet ventilator to the
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THE VERY BEST OF CARE
regular ventilator, and his oxygen levels stabilized. He remained
on the antibiotics.
Nine days after the blood transfusion, Danny was off the ven
tilator, and only two IV lines remained. Sophie felt a collective
sigh of relief from everybody who had worked so hard to keep
Danny alive.
Sophie and Adam’s prayers had been answered
