I'm sorry, but after this blog, I won't be able to blog again for a long period of time. This isn't a good thing in all; in fact, it depresses me. I started this blog with the intent of staying steady with it, but look here... No more blog. It's not my fault, nor anyone's really, unless you say it was Rick's, who decided to cut it off last month. I won't go into the detail of why, but I'm sure that if you're assuming it's about money, you're getting pretty hot... Sizzling, I would say. Anyhow, back to the subject at hand, right now I'm pretty depressed. There's just so much going on that I never planned on, so much traveling, and so much dealing with hospital social workers who don't understand the things I'm saying. Maybe it's just because I get nervous when I talk to people like that. She has all the right to take the baby from us but I don't want that to ever happen. You see, the issue is because we couldn't see Celes over 50% of the time was because of many different individualized problems. On one hand, we could spend much of our day with her, and on the other, we could get rid of stress by seeing the sights of a new town. Well, in all actuality, we went somewhere in the middle of those two. We did see her at least once a day, if only for a half-hour, but many of the times we would see her two or three times a day, being about 3 hours total, except for the occasions where we stayed over eight hours a day for her first surgery.

It's just like when we try to talk to her, she tells us that she just can't (but the reason is usually because we didn't see her over 50% of the time) help us there. If we were to promise to spend time, which to me feels like begging, she could even still say no, but I don't know the truth because I haven't asked. She keeps telling me that, since I'm not required to be up at the hospital anymore, that I should just go back home and get my job back. However, like I asked her, "What's the point in getting a job that you'd leave in a couple of weeks; a number of weeks that you're not even certain of to come back here to learn how to take care of her?" I don't even remember her answer to that question, but oh well.

There are other problems with the hospital as well, but there's really nothing we can do about it. Firstly, the nurses. They're rarely there when we come, so what we do is just stand by her crib. I've counted times as high as 40 minutes before her nurse came and talked to us. It was probably her lunch break or something, and of course everybody needs them, but for God's sake this is Perinatal Intensive Care. It would only take seconds for her to die if she had pulled her tube out, or farther brain damage if she had more seizure-like episodes. Of course machines beep and the other nurses will come, but then what about their babies. Just leave them out to die? One of the nurses also made Kim cry. What happened was it was almost shift-change (where everybody is required to leave the area), she talked to Celes' nurse. The nurse was VERY rude and telling her she had to leave at shift change, and all she wanted to do was ask a question about the baby. See, the question we had we got while in the waiting room. Our nurse told the mother next to us that our baby was probably going to have her breathing tube pulled. She completely failed to mention that to us. When the lady came out, she asked questions about the pulling of the tube. We knew nothing and investigated further to find out the nurse just "forgot" to tell us. That's why Kim talked to her, but she was very rude. When Kim came out she was crying. And, if you knew Kim like I do, she didn't do anything wrong. Now also, lately, since we're hundreds of miles away from Tulsa, we call every day. Three times out of five, when she calls, the nurse has left. How's that for crazy?

So, all in all, it's quite depressing. There's other factors attributing to this, too. Like, if you don't know already, it was accidentally assumed that we had herpes. We thought we did ourselves, even. Turns out we don't. But, Rick and his happy self decided we needed a lecture about how he should have been told because we live in his house. It was a 5 minute lecture that seemed to last forever. He only found out because somebody accidentally told him, and we didn't want to tell him anyway because we knew this would happen. But now we don't have it, and never will. It was a wasted lecture, but it hurt, because it is our privacy, and ours alone, even if we do live with him. If anything like that were to happen again, I wouldn't tell him. It's none of his business, and I hate getting lectures about what I feel is unfair, invasive, or personal. Kim's mom is much nicer, although a little on the silly side sometimes. Thing is, she means well, but she's always asking us to do stuff. Stuff like moving furniture, feeding animals, watering, etc. She doesn't ask it all the time, but sometimes she does, you know? And tells us what we need to do to prepare for the baby, how to care for it, how much of a burden it is... It gets old, real old, and very quick. Especially when every other relative tells you. They all think they're doctors, but what they don't get is that the practices used when they had babies is outdated by better medicines, better practicing, etc.

Oh well... Being sad, anxious, and depressed never really hurt anyone.

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