On Wednesday, we headed back up to Stanford for yet another scope of Noah's trachea.
We had a 4:00 a.m. departure, a 7:15 a.m. arrival, and an 8:30 a.m. procedure time. We were confident that we would be back on the road, heading home, by noon.
That, apparently, was not to be.
By 10:30 a.m. my Little Man looked like this...
Our MOST FANTASTIC Otolaryngologist came out after the scope looking like a ten year old boy staring at his pile of birthday presents. "So", he said enthusiastically, "do you want to get this trach out?"
"Um...OK", we nervously responded, looking at each other for reassurance.
This is it...holy crap...this is it!
After a quick trip to the ICU, Our MOST FANTASTIC Otolaryngologist pulled Noah's trach and we all took a deep breath.
Bubs was doing it. We were doing it.
Can you believe this???
So simple...so dramatic...so pure.