Calm before the storm

Nanette woke up several times yesterday. Even under
sedation, her dark eyes search and question. It's
hard to watch her struggle against all the tubes and
wires and the effect of the drugs. She's
uncomfortable and she wants to be picked up and held.
You can see it in the way she furrows her little brow
and clenches her fingers and toes. Even though she
seemed a bit anxious yesterday, her vital stats stayed
relatively level, so the surgery looks like a go for
this afternoon.

I wish the kids could have stayed another day. Katie
helped me make breakfast yesterday morning - she mixed
up pancake batter (Carter's favorite) and I made
scrambled eggs (Katie's favorite.) After breakfast we
all went up and saw Nanette. On the way back to the
House, we ran into Josie and Angie have coffee so we
joined them for some hot chocolate and the the kids
and I went downtown. We parked near Morrison Street
and walked clear across town, from 4th Avenue to 11th
and then up to the Paramount where we found a
McDonalds. From there, we went back to 11th and
caught the trolley. A nice woman gave up her seat for
us and asked us where we were going.

"Where does this trolley go?" I asked.

"The Pearl District and then 23rd," she said.

"Then that's where we're going," I replied.

We got off at the Pearl District because that was the
end of Fareless Square (which isn't a square at all.)
We caught the return trolley and rode it all the way
to PSU and then the waterfront. The kids loved it.
What could be more fun on a sunny, warm afternoon than
to hang out in the shade of towering buildings amidst
all the students with their pierced lips and brows and
the college professors and the suits and the assorted
city characters, like the blind gentleman with his two
dogs and the guy with a red golf ball bag and a set of
clubs that got on near a church and got off down near
the concert hall and I expected him to say "just
playing through."

I like to imagine Nanette four years from now, joining
us on one of our "walkabouts," with strong legs and a
quirky sense of humor like Carter's, and with long
blond hair like Katie's, tied back with a piece of
blue ribbon that keeps falling out because her hair is
so fine. She picks it up and hands it to me and
stares at me with big blue eyes that she gets from me
and JoAnn.

We walked back along the river, dodging rollerbladers
and bicycles and joggers. Carter finally sat down in
the grass and fell backwards, refusing to go on.
Katie hung on my arm. But we roused Carter and
finally found the car right where we left it. The
kids collapsed into their seats. But even winding
down the inside of the parking structure was fun for
the them. They love the little things, like fountains
and dogs and sunshine and shade and the click of the
trolley wheels on the metal tracks.

Aunt Lee Anne and Uncle Eric met us at the House with
Gramma Cooke and we gave them the standard tour.
While I moved the booster seats from the van to Lee
Anne's Subaru, the kids put on a play: Dinosaur and
Unicorn. The synopsis is that a green dinosaur
marries a winged unicorn and they have a baby (a crazy
puff of multicolored fur that matches the unicorn's
mane.) They're great at improv, and there's a box of
wonderful costumes in the playroom here.

As Lee Anne backed up her car, with the kids and
gramma all loaded in the back seat, I could see Carter
with his head in his hands and his face scrunched
tight. Katie just stared out the window. We all
waved. They were small waves though, not big happy
ones.

Funny how life can change in a moment. We've been
living down here for a week. A short week. A long
week. Sharing a house with other families who live
now in this strange world, where kids have to visit,
where tubes and wire hooked up to a baby seem normal.
A world where you can't touch your baby sister. You
can only stand close, held up by your dad so you can
see over the edge of strange bed. Carter once asked
"Why does she have that?" and I thought maybe he was
pointing at Nanette's blue and white respirator tubes
but I couldn't quite tell, so I asked "Why does she
have what?" and he poked his finger toward a little
purple stuffed lizard that the nurses use to prop up
the respirator tubes.

He barely sees the medical interventions. They are
like the trees and bushes and tables and chairs and
toasters and school books of our old world. Carter
sees the purple lizard because it doesn't belong.
It's an anomaly, an artifact from the world outside.
There are a few of those around. Like the picture of
the ladybug above Nanette's head that identifies her
section. I see it every day as I walk in. The big
red bug with black spots and the number one.
Sometimes that's how I think of her - her super
identity.

Ladybug One.