9 Days and 9 Nights

My sincerest apologies to those of you pining for the next episode of Meg's Anatomy. Believe me when I invoke the adage, "No news is good news." Since last Tuesday, Meg has cooperated in allowing me to focus on my return to school. Meanwhile, Jen has begun her new occupation as childcare professional, a career that is no less emotionally challenging than her previous position.

Reader's Digest Anecdotes.

In 1940s Europe, civilians became all too familiar with the chilling alarms of air-raid sirens, sounds that sent ordinary people fleeing in terror. I will personally attest that the modern day version of such an experience is the apnea monitor in our bedroom, our living room, our dining room, Babies R Us, Walmart, or wherever we can be found. In my line of work, I have learned to make rage one of the last responses ever to overcome me. Discipline of mind gave way to humanness the third night we spent at home. As designated bather of babies (my contribution since I haven't the skills to breastfeed), I had given Meg a bath on Thursday afternoon... and rubbed her down with baby oil, a substance that makes monitor patches refuse to stick. The loose connections led to my threatening to launch the machine from our second story window when it roused us at five minute intervals with its piercing. Chemistry lesson for the day: oil and sleep apnea monitor do not mix.

Meg was introduced at church Sunday morning. Despite our attempts to spare Jen from bawling (sneaking in late, sitting in the rear, making little eye contact), Pastor John's moles in the sound booth did not let us escape his attention. Fortunately, Meg is already understanding enough not to embarrassed by her mother's tears and her father's clumsy attempts at jokes to mask his nervousness.

Actual Updates (for those bored to tears with the "anecdotes" segment of the episode, myself included)

The little patient has been seizure free for 14 full days... we think. I add the addendum because sub-clinical seizures are possible, and we would not know that these had occurred without the use of an EEG. She continues to eat very well, and her periods of waking have become more frequent and more convincing. Meg gains better control of her eyes each day, and her physical strength is surprising for a three-week-old.

Wednesday afternoon, Meg was reintroduced to the first man she ever truly loved in her life, our family doctor. She looked a little different this time, and so did he quite frankly. For one thing, he wasn't trying to regain his breath as he was the night he bolted up to the 3rd floor delivery room just in time to keep her from hitting the floor. His physical exam of her found no abnormalities, and she managed to stay awake for the lengthy wait in the hall and the examination, which is more than I can say for myself.

Wednesday night, Meg met a new man, a tall, dark, and handsome chiropractor for whom I will not make up a name because he happens to be my best friend's father-in-law. After every test run by the medical experts at St. V's turned up few to no possible causes for Meg's seizures, we have elected to see what chiropractic medicine may have to offer in the way of answers. As my great uncle, the chiropractor, once said, "If doctors and chiropractors could find a way to get along, they could fix anything." Perhaps Meg has found a new mission field in reconciling these two long-estranged sister sciences. We will see. Anyway, the chiropractor probed around in the back of her skull and found the first piece of evidence in nearly three weeks that is abnormal. Meg's neck felt different on each side of her spine directly below the base of her skull. He explained that a fast labor (less than 2 hours is pretty fast) can exert greater pressure on a baby's neck than a longer labor and may lead to alignment problems. And potentially, seizures. As I held her peaceful, sleeping body in my lap, he cracked her tiny neck one way, then the other way, and back again. It gives me the willies just picturing it. But Meg did not stir a muscle until he was finished. She stretched a bit, made a few squeaky sounds, and continued her slumber. We will return for another adjustment on Saturday.

Today, Meg completed her trifecta of doctors in twenty four hours with her visit to the neurologist in St. V's. We went with the expectation of an exam, lab work, and an EEG. Dr. Ageless very apologetically broke the news to us that the EEG technician in his building only performed the procedure on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays, news that he first learned today. His examine revealed nothing more or less than the examine she received the previous day, and the lab work could more easily have been completed at a nearby facility. While we enjoyed some laughs with our neurologist buddy, we were keenly aware that the trip had revealed little. Furthermore, the lab tech's attempts to collect urine were predictably fruitless, as Meg had already emptied herself into her diaper, soaking her onesie during our trip to the office. One small piece to the puzzle that we gained from today: typically a seizure patient will be on meds for four to six weeks before dosages are reevaluated. What does this mean? In another three weeks, Meg will have had several more adjustments to her spine, adjustments that may make the medications unnecessary. We will have to wait and see. And pray.

With all that said, our baby is home, we have an immediate family of four, extended family, church family, terrific caregivers, each with various special necessary skills. We have a Father who quietly, ever so subtly reminds us that He has got it all under control. My devotional Bible has brought me to the Joseph story of Genesis. In fact, I read the end just this morning. For years Joseph was not privy to the broad scope of his life. But now that we know the end, we say, "Oh silly Joseph, can't you see? God knew all the time! Why did you ever worry?" Sure, that's easy to say when you know the end. Do we know how this ends? Well, we know who wins in the end, and that we are in His care is sufficient. We can sleep. Unless of course Meg's patches don't stick.

It might be... it could be...

It is! Meg is home! She is wired for apnea and drugged up, but the babe has returned, healthy and kicking.

We had a terrific day. At 1100 hours when we arrived at floor 6, the EEG had been removed. The nurse said the report looked clear, but we reserved our joy until we saw the neurologist. The pediatric physician stopped to talk to us about checking out, but still, we reserved our joy. Finally, the distinguished young neurologist entered to tell us that she had not had any seizures during the 21 hours that the EEG had been running. He mentioned that she still had some small "sparks" occurring, but the medicine was doing its job to keep the sparks from becoming blazing seizures. With all serious metabolic tests returned normal, his hope is that the meds can control the seizures and that the sparks will fade out as Meg grows. Please pray that this is the Master plan.

One would think that the story ends there. God was not done with Apostle Meg, however. Yesterday, when we were told we would need to wait another 24 hours for another EEG, admittedly our expressions dropped. We went to Toledo hoping for a Monday release, but for some reason, we had to make still one more trip home with an empty backseat. My question: Why didn't the doctors order a 24-hour observation beginning on Sunday so we could be cleared by Monday afternoon?

The answer: In the early morning hours of Tuesday, an ambulance transported a three-day-old infant, Braden, to the St. V's pediatric ICU, three rooms down from Meg. He was unwell from low blood sugar, and nurses witnessed some seizures. His parents, Ben and Carrie, found themselves right where we were eleven days prior. Our primary physician, having developed a good rapport with us over the past week, requested that we speak with them and lend them some comfort. We had the chance to hear their concerns, give them some ideas of what to expect, share our faith story, and finally pray with them for the wellness of their baby.

Again, many mature Christ-followers are thinking, "Of course that happened. That's how God works, Throne." You'll have to excuse me; I'm a little slow. But again, we pray for what we hope God will do, and we trust that He will do what He needs to for the glory of his kingdom. Our little missionary was again a conduit for her Father to reach people who desperately needed His comfort. We get the sense that this meeting was ordained, so please help us pray for Braden and his mommy and daddy.

Meg is home. We have waited to say those words. We have waited see her sleeping in her cradle. We have waited to hear her hungry cry from the living room, to have her with us as we sit down to eat supper, to watch her squirming on her blanket next to us while her proud sister tries to lovingly, but awkwardly, pick her up again and again. And many have waited with us. Those people have been Christ, Emanuel. "Thank you" seems ridiculous, but it is all we have to offer right now. That, and our sincere pledge to do the same for all whom we also find in need. May God always find us willing to serve as you all have served through prayer, resources, and abundant love.

Today is another fragment. (If you still haven't read the Woodcutter, why haven't you?) Meg still has a long process ahead, but we are hoping that the worst is far behind. Please ask God to allow the medicines to continue protecting Meg from seizures. Please, please continue to pray for her improvement for the next couple of weeks. The next part of her life is tense, and equally very critical. But Meg is home.

Finally some news.

No, still no definitive answers as to causes for Meg's maladies. We do have some news about her release from the hospital. Tomorrow, if her 23-hour video observation is clear, Meg Avery will finally get to come home. We talked to our original neurologist (the grey one was his temporary replacement) and he explained that a 23-hour video would give him better peace of mind. We agreed, although we came this morning with some hopes that she could go home today. So tomorrow around 2:30 p.m., we will meet with this doctor again and find out if we can stay home for awhile. It goes without saying that this thought excites us, primarily because it gives us a timeframe and a possible end to Meg's stay.

2 weeks with us.

Today marks two weeks that Meg has been in our lives. What an extraordinary time we have had. As a good friend said in an email earlier in the week, "Already in her young life, Meg has brought hundreds of people to their knees." Perhaps we have a little apostle swaddled before us.

Doctors are doing bloodwork today, and when we arrived at St. V's at 8:30, an EEG had already been performed. No reports of seizures for about 90 hours. We have a lot of tense waiting today.

This blog has not ever been about Jen and me; it is primarily about keeping interested readers informed about Meg's status and about our observations of her improvements and setbacks. She is the lead character; we are simply supporting cast. This comes as no big surprise to other parents. As associate ministers to pastor Meg, we try to pass on some of the limited insights that fall to us on occasion. That said, Jen and I are inevitably growing in our knowledge of Christ and our Father, and certainly in our reliance on the Spirit. Our minds are continually being renewed. A mind renewal that takes place in 10 quick days is much like a three-inch adolescent growth spurt that happens over summer break: It aches a little. Last night, I prayed a prayer that I have never known to pray, so I am convinced that at least some of the words that I blubbered must have been given by the Holy Spirit. Please believe me when I say that this was far from contrived. I thanked God numerous times for the gift of this child, thanked him for his use of her already in his kingdom. I thanked him for entrusting us with a child that has Meg's issues, whatever those may be. I asked that the knower of all answers lend answers to Meg's physicians. But here is where I was no longer the orchestrator of words. I pledged that Jen and I will submit to the divine plan that God has for Meg's life, no matter what that might be. See, I am not strong to pray for miracles. I am grateful that there are members of Christ's family who have that strength and gift, but I am not one. Huck Finn once prayed for fishhooks and didn't get none, and that hurt his faith. I have never wanted that to happen to me. As a result of this weakness, I often do not know how to pray in a circumstance like Meg's. But last night, in the midst of our pleadings for Meg's health, "the dove" descended, perched, and prompted, "Pray for answers to your baby's miraculous healing, and submit to your Father's plan, no matter what that plan may be." Uh, don't you mean but submit? Nope. For the first time, I clearly understood that asking God for something does not automatically set me up for disappointment if he does not grant my petition... if I sincerely acknowledge my limited understanding and submit to his ultimate plan. I can ask, and then defer to God's authority, just as I expect my children to ask me for something and trustingly await my judgment. More advanced (translation: older) readers are thinking, "You just figured that out, Throne?" I'm a little slow. I have heard scripture my whole life, but some truths only lay on the topsoil and do not actually take root until we are placed in circumstances to put those truths to practice. Last night, the weather was just right, and the Holy Spirit brought the rain to allow this Biblical truth to firmly plant itself and become more than just a platitude. To quote Marty McFly, "Heavy."

Matthew 26:39. "O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." I never understood the point of this prayer. Why pray for something, if God is going to do what he wants anyway? Last night the Spirit allowed me an understanding that my mind could not. It wasn't emotional, it wasn't fuzzy, it just was. Thank ya, Jesus!

65 hours and counting.

No observable seizures in two and a half days. No exclamation point, however, as this is only another fragment. Today began our vigilant observation of Meg. From now until sometime tomorrow, we will be at constant attention looking out for any visible seizure activity. If her seizures have, in fact, been controlled, we will have the opportunity to bring her home soon. That is too significant an "if" for us to even consider getting excited. We see a fragment today, and tomorrow will bring another fragment.

We entered the room this morning to find a fussy, wide-eyed Meg. Her momma's voice calmed Meg's fussing. She ate really well at 6:00 a.m. and again at 10:30; she also takes her medicine like a trooper. She laid on Jen's lap for a half hour and wiggled and squirmed and performed several leg press reps against Jen's stomach.

I hesitate to give a score today, because objectively speaking, we are only up +2 or +3. Continue to pray for answers and for continued protection from the seizures in the cleft of the Rock. Thank you friends and family for loving this little girl as you all do.

The streak continues.

Meg's last known seizure occurred sometime Thursday night. Doctors added dilantin to her medicines Thursday night, and this may have been the answer.

This morning, both doctors again examined Meg, and proclaimed that she is doing really well. Chatter of going home has once again resumed, this time from the mouths of both doctors individually. Dr. Bluejeans suggested Monday or Tuesday already, and Dr. Wisehair reiterated the sentiment, leaning toward Monday. Of course, all is still contingent upon Meg remaining seizure free, both to our eyes and to the trained observation of nurses and an EEG that is scheduled for Monday. We are again hopeful, but as we learned earlier this week, wait for the fat lady to sing before celebrating. There will be plenty of time for rejoicing once she is home.

Beyond this hopeful forecast, and we all know how reliable forecasts are, there is little news to report today. She has eaten so hungrily and has taken her medicine so obediently that the I.V. needle, which hasn't been used in days, has been removed from her head. She remains plugged into a monitor, but despite trailing a few small wires, she is almost an average newborn. However, if her first week of life as an individual is any indication, Meg clearly has no intention of being an average newborn, an average toddler, an average child, teenager, adult, or geriatric.

We are at least +5 today. We still await answers from Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. More fluid samples were sent yesterday. Continue praying for a long term solution please. And we need two more good days without seizures so Meg can finally return to her home. Home. The word means something drastically different than it did a week ago.

A step in the right direction.

After several hours with Meg today, we saw no visible signs of seizure activity. The nurses last night also reported no activity, and unless we missed some (which is entirely possible) Meg has gone nearly 24 hours without a noted episode. Perhaps tomorrow may bring more disappointment, but Dr. Whitehair may be approaching the right combination of medications for Meg. Meanwhile, tests for different metabolic causes continue to return with normal results, a few each day. We received training for a sleep apnea monitor today, a machine that will beep if Meg has prolonged periods without breathing. We will use the monitor just as a safety net. Doctors will download and examine the records that this monitor stores and determine whether or not it is necessary beyond four weeks.

Today, Meg woke for nearly an hour and a half and checked out her surroundings. She seems to approve of her parents more each time she watches us, although our goofy gestures and faces and ridiculous noises only elicit yawns and grunts from the obviously embarassed child, a response that will only intesify as she gets to know us better. This was a wonderful day for all of us, and one which finds our spirits lifted. Drs. Denim and Whitehair both gave favorable reports following their respective examinations of Meg. Again, her health is quite impressive; now to stop those pesky seizures.

One week in the books.

After a week, still no clear answers to the causes for Meg's seizures. We have learned a lot about what has not caused them, however, and each test that reads "normal" means one more aspect that is right with her. No seizures have been noted so far this morning after giving Meg three doses of dilantin last night. If we find that she will respond better to dilantin, then perhaps I will not have to learn to spell/pronounce that other drug.

Yesterday, Jen met with a geneticist, and she forgot to mention the best part of the story. His question for her: "Is there any way that you and Ryan might be... related?" Apparently, Meg has a deficiency in an amino acid that commonly shows up among Kentuckians when relatives reproduce. Thankfully, we hail from different parts of the country, so that is really not a possibility in our case.

Our primary physician, a comical, dry, blue-jeans doctor, reiterated the plan of action today: continue running tests on her fluids to search for genetic deficiencies, while searching for a formula of drugs that will stop her seizures. Dr. Levi-Strauss did mention that Meg's seizures do not fit into the typical infant seizures (typical infant seizures?) that he usually sees. However, he says that her neurological responses are improving, which he found encouraging.

As I have been writing, I have heard LifeFlight descend, and the nurses have begun readying two rooms on the floor for a two-pede-trauma. Sure, waiting stinks, but Meg's case is very hopeful in contrast to some of what parents endure every day here. Our baby will come home, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Some babies will not, and their parents are truly deserving of our concern. Our trials this week seem dinky when considered next to parents who no longer can hold their Megs.

Thanks to all who continue faithfully to pray for Meg throughout each day. Thanks especially to the Holy Spirit for patience and comfort and for eternal perspective. +2 today.

Meg's Recipe

Jen here...I am here today as Ryan gets a chance to spend time with Ella. Just a warning...I can not write like my husband. :) I was really happy to see the nurse holding Meg when I got up here. It's encouraging to see how much they love her. I have met yet another Dr. today. This time he said they found a low level in an amino acid. They will give her something for it and we'll see what happens. Please pray for constant patience for us and we wait upon the Lord to give the Dr.'s the right recipe for Meg. I wait for God's timing, however I wish He would hurry up. ;0) I am constantly reminded about Philippians 4:4-7. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Just want to thank you all for praying for Meg. Please keep them coming!

Jen here....I am here today as Ryan is getting a chance to spend the day with the other daughter. I was happy to see when I walked in the nurse holding Meg. It's so comforting to know they love her so much up here. I met yet another Dr. who this time said he saw a low level in something in her amino acids. SOoo...they are going to give her medicine for that. I

Another fragment.

After a 12-hour stint without an event, Meg had a seizure at 19:50 (19:50-12=7:50pm). The white-haired, wise neurologist made rounds within a few minutes of the seizure, and he was disappointed at the report. He will try to boost Meg's p.b. doses slightly, but he said it looks like this drug alone will not be sufficient, so tomorrow he will recommend adding dilantin. He also wants to treat her for a rare deficiency just in case that may be the answer. His words to me as he left were the same as his words to Jen a few nights prior: "Hang in there. Hang in there." And he said like he meant it. The white-haired neurologist was blessed with the gift of comfort. And we continue to pray for answers. Still plus for the day.

Day 6

Last night Meg experienced several more seizures, totaling eight in about eighteen hours. After three days of no visibly detectable seizures, this was a setback. The doctors boosted her dosage of p.b. to bring her blood levels from 30 somethings to 41 somethings this morning. More mumbo jumbo. So far since 7:30 this morning, we have not observed any seizures. The EEG technician referred to this morning's EEG report as "beautiful." Furthermore, Meg continues to grow stronger and hungrier. We have essentially stopped keeping track of her intake because she is eating too quickly from breast and bottle for us to gauge. Meg spent over an hour awake, eyes open, and - very important here - not crying, just observing.

Finding a seizure preventative and right dosage remains the primary task here at St. V's while we await spinal fluid analysis from Minnesota. So far, Day 6 finds Meg at about +3.

Heads or tails?

Today was a bit rocky. Meg was physically the healthiest she has been this morning, kicking, crying, looking at her surroundings, and generally making her presence known. However, we have seen at least four definitive seizures since we arrived twelve hours ago. This was discouraging, especially when the doctors continue to speak of her approaching release. Our nurse today told Jen that they want us to take the reins of Meg's care while we are here, and after one of Meg's seizures, the nurse gave us the impression that she may have seizures once we return home and that we will need to learn how to deal with them. This was extremely discouraging as we were under the impression that the seizures would be controlled by proper drug dosage before we left here. I guess the word "controlled" has varied definitions.

Tonight, Meg experienced another seizure. A nurse that we had not yet met reported the seizure and proceeded to tell Jen and me about her five year old son who has experienced seizures from birth and who has all kinds of problems. Reality, but perhaps not the best timing for that personal anecdote. Nevertheless, we learned that medicating for seizures is not exact, and that some medications will help for a while and suddenly stop working. "Trial and error" is the phrase she used. Great.

So at 9 p.m., we were down. Jen and I were both having fearful visions of us taking Meg home in a few days, watching her have seizures but hoping she just would have a few each day, blindly trying to find a combination of drugs that would minimize her seizures, and waiting for a possible precise diagnosis. This is a grim picture.

After Jen left in tears, the neurologist came in and decided to increase Meg's medication and continue the trial and error process here at the hospital. His words: "We will not send her home until we get the seizures stopped."

He then prescribed a larger dose of the p.b., and the nurse explained to me how to mix it with a tiny portion of the milk. When Meg awoke, I mixed it myself, shaken not stirred, and served her the revolting cocktail, and then fed her the rest of the milk which she lapped up gratefully. I held her on my shoulder for nearly an hour, during which time the sweet-smelling babe reassured her fretting father that she was one of God's greatest blessings to his life - all with only an occasional infant sigh. And after some setbacks today, hope springs eternal.

Tempered optimism.

Meg just had a seizure while sitting on Aliese's lap. This is the first obvious seizure that we have seen in several days. Bummer. But we are still on the "plus" side for the day. Nurses logged the event, and we await the neurologist's arrival and analysis. This likely added some time to her stay, but we would rather have these events here where we can report them instantly. Another fragment.

Nocturnal Meg

After a restful night at home with Ella, Jen and I were serenaded by baby cries as we entered the C-Wing of sixth floor. As we were leaving last night, Meg had another first: she woke from her slumber to cry out for food. This morning, we were informed that she cried and fussed for most of the night and throughout the morning. It seems odd that we are thrilled at this, considering that for most babies parents rejoice when they sleep through the night. Grandpa Dan will be pleased as this sets her up well to be a midnight coonhunting apprentice. As I write, Jen breastfeeds her for the first time in nearly a week. After a morning of fussing, this has quieted her temporarily. Yes, this is normal behavior Throne, but for this kid, "normal" does not apply.

An EEG was performed on Meg this morning and showed a small hiccup in activity, but despite our parental panic, the professionals are not a bit concerned. Our new neurologist has elected to increase her phenobarbawhatchacallit a little, but she is taking it orally through a nipple instead of through an I.V., a treatment that we will administer once she returns home. We have her unhooked from all monitors at the moment, and the doctors inch closer to releasing her. They seem to be more comfortable than we are with Meg in our care.

We are restraining our joy somewhat, keeping the perspective that this is just one day. Tomorrow may or may not bring setbacks; we do not know. I am reminded of "The Woodcutter's Wisdom," a story that I recommend to anyone. Google it. All we see is a fragment.

Please keep praying. Genuine gratitude to Meg's creator for her progress. Continued improvement and an end to seizures. Thank you all.

From birth to today...

A note to the reader:
Read as much or little of this blog as you like. I only ask that people not read part and fill in the blanks with their own speculations. Meg despises that kind of trashy tabloid journalism.

First five days of independence:
Meg Avery Throne was born at 8:54 p.m., August 3rd, 2009, weighing 7 pounds, 5 ounces, and measuring 20.75 inches in length. She came quickly: Jen labored for under two hours, and in two strong pushes Meg was with us. She cried for a few minutes and promptly fell asleep. Clearly a different personality from her big sis who, from birth, has never been bashful about announcing her presence.

Tuesday evening, we saw her give us a Heisman pose, a stretching of the arms, legs, and neck which resembled the college football trophy. This was the first of what we would come to learn were seizures. Wednesday we took her home. Nurses had not witnessed Meg's poses, and from our descriptions, they saw no cause for concern. Into Wednesday evening, we saw several more of these, and noticed her eyes rolling back. She would hold her breath and turn bright red, and then cry afterward. We video-recorded an event so we could show our doctor, but he would not be into the office until Friday.

Thursday night, while I played softball, Meg's grandmothers paid a visit. They both agreed that Meg's poses were extremely troubling and were becoming much more frequent. So at the recommendation of two grandmas and two registered nurses, we took Meg to the emergency room at Fulton County Health Center. Thank God for grandmas. And aunts.

The Fulton County Health Center is a fine institution, but it is not particularly well-equipped to treat a three-day-old newborn having seizures. After giving their best effort, doctors conferred and decided that Meg needed care that St. Vincent's Children's Hospital could give. Meg took her first ride on LifeFlight in the early morning hours of Friday. Jen and I drove to the hospital, and when we arrived at 4 a.m., nurses and the resident doctor had given Meg an I.V. and had begun to draw fluids for testing. These people have the exact skills and practice that our baby needs, and the optimistic calmness that my wife needed to see that morning. Meg immediately had a highly recommended neurologist working overtime on her case.

Since Thursday night, the infant has had many vials of blood taken, a catheter, oxygen assistance, two LPs (spinal taps), two EEGs, an MRI, and a CT, and just about every other acronym in the field of pediatric medicine.

Progress:
Following the doctor's observation of two full-blown seizures Friday, Meg was placed on phenobarbacalifragilisticexpialidocious. I just know it controls seizures. Thursday she was having about two per hour; after the phenobarb, she has had two documented in two days, and these are called non-clinical (you can't see them without EEG equipment). And there was great rejoicing.

On Saturday, the MRI report, which examines a million (exaggeration) scans of her brain, revealed nothing abnormal in her physical development. This means that her brain looks the way it should, ridges and blood vessels and all. And there was great rejoicing. Saturday night, without the nurse's permission, Meg removed her breathing tube for the third time, and the nurse humored her by taking it off for good.

Relatively speaking, Sunday has been the best day of her life. She was mercifully afforded a day of rest: no poking, sticking, gluing, waterboarding, etc. The EEG monitors were deemed unnecessary. The physician overseeing Meg's entire case allowed her about five hours to "declare herself" before he would order a feeding tube to get her some much needed nourishment. By this, he meant that we needed to see some activity and get her to eat by 1 p.m. She must have overheard this, because the instant we switched to breast milk, she guzzled like a true Irish-Catholic (of which we are neither). She drank and pooped well, and she actually was awake when the doctor examined her Monday morning. The I.V. is unhooked and is only used when she gets a syringe dose of the drug I can't spell. The doctor noted her physical improvements since Saturday, but her reflexes still are not as strong as he wants to see.

Currently, Doc is taking a two-faceted (that means two-sided L.T.) approach to Meg's case. He is working to get her healthy enough to take home and treat with oral doses of pheno-bla-bla-bla. We will likely take her home at some point while the labs and specialists continue to search for the precise cause(s) for her seizure. Infection has been ruled out, so they have turned their examination to metabolic causes. Of course, I know all about amino acids and enzymes from my extensive training in medical school; I just don't want to bore my reader. My one, lone, reader. Too late.

This appears completely treatable, but Meg needs to regain a lot of strength and avoid more seizures. Her age really works in her favor for recovery, but she is still exhausted most of the time.

Please pray. She has a family who has diligently held her, encouraged her, fawned over her. She has friends that she has not met who are eager to meet her. She has prayer coming from five different states, possibly more. She has hundreds of people praying across the fruited plain. And the greatest comfort is the faith that she has a father who loves her more than I do, and folks, I love her quite bit.