Dire Situation

Roscoe is in a dire situation and Alisha and I are not sure if he will make it through the next few days. He had another episode earlier today at 11am where his oxygen levels went down to 30, when they are supposed to be 94 or higher. Since then, Alisha and I have been at the hospital and very anxious, so we've walked around a lot, went to my nearby softball game, and went to dinner. We did all of these things waiting for a call from the hospital at his next episode, but we never got the call. They even got his oxygen input down to 75% at one point as he got more stable.

When we came back to the hospital to check on him after dinner. We were expecting him to still be doing well so that we could go home and get some rest. I came into the room and found him in the middle of a desaturation where his oxygen level went down to 75, stayed there for a few minutes, and then even went lower to around 68. To get him breathing well again, the doctor ordered an inhalant that will loosen up his breathing, because of the congestion in his lungs and nose (due to the cold). Once they did this he slowly climbed back up to the 94+ level where he should have been, but it was a much slower climb than it had been previously. To me, it felt like I was back in early October 2013.

We just left the hospital to come home and get supplies (plus our dog) and then we'll head back. We plan to sleep in the waiting room overnight if they'll let us, as we are nervous that he might not make it through the night. Currently he is receiving 2 pain killers (midozolam, fentanyl), 1 paralytic (vecuronium), and a blood transfusion (to boost his ability to circulate oxygen) through 2 IVs in his head. While we were there, they put in a 3rd IV in his leg to administer dopamine, to restrict his blood vessels to counteract the blood pressure in his lungs. He is also receiving nitric oxide, oxygen, and the inhalant to loosen his breathing through his trach tube. Right now he is receiving close to the maximum amount of medical support he can get.

They have an oscillator standing by in case they need to increase his breathing support to a more drastic level, but breathing support doesn't seem to be what he needs since his lungs are fighting against it. They also have a cart with a defibrillator on it in case the worst happens. It is a harrowing sight to see that machine brought into your child's room and know that it's intended for them.

Alisha and I are absolutely terrified. We sent our happy, energetic boy to surgery on Tuesday as the first step towards his long-term recovery. Now we are not sure if he will survive through the end of this week, which fittingly ends when Father's Day begins. We have exhausted our thoughts through prayers. We have complete confidence that we have done everything possible for this little boy, only some of which has been posted on this blog.

At this time we don't want any visitors at the hospital. Roscoe's room is kept completely quiet and dark, to minimize any stimulation that might set off his pulmonary hypertension. He is completely still (due to the paralyzing drug) and we cannot touch him for fear that doing so will worsen his condition. As a parent, this tears me apart. I don't know why God would allow us to be so punished, so defeated, so beaten, so broken ... but he has chosen/allowed it and we are powerless to change its course through anything other than prayer.

Abraham believed that his son could be raised from the dead, and I believe mine can as well. Jesus raised the dead by God's power, and that power remains in God's hand still for Roscoe. God raised his own Son from the dead, and he can raise mine as well. The question now is: "Will He?".

We will update the blog tomorrow morning, hopefully with good news.

We won't respond to texts/calls because it would be too stressful
and confusing to deal with at this point.