The snow is coming down heavy and swirly today.  We are in room 604 instead of 609 this time, but still have a lovely view to the south.  Here is what it looks like on a clear day.

At the end of the hall is a little lounge area with a beautiful view of the medical campus and the Denver skyline in the distance.

My favorite part of the drive to the hospital is coming over a ridge on I-25 when the Denver skyline unfolds before us.  At night it is particularly breath taking. It's small and simple things like this I try to savor.  Find the beauty wherever it can be found.

Today they accessed Michael's mediport for the first time.  After the nurses had worked hard to place his IV in the ER on Wednesday night, we undressed him and they noticed the bump on his chest.  They were a bit incredulous when we told them it was a mediport because it would have been much easier to use instead of trying to find a vein for the IV.  Oh, well.  We are obviously pretty new to mediports so we didn't even think about it.  Here is what a mediport looks like:

The center is a soft, semipermeable disc which can hold about 2-3 millileters and allows needles and fluid in, but not out.  It always reseals itself too.  Amazing what technology can do.  Since it sits just under the skin, they use EMLA - which is like lidocaine, to numb the skin.  Then they insert the needle and keep it there (they tape it down so he can't pull it out).

This hospital stay is a little more of "just hanging out" until he receives a shunt. Mikey's really enjoyed this musical toy the nurses loaned us, and chewing on his IV cords.  The blue splint helps keep the IV in place since he would probably pull it out if he could.  He likes to eat it too.

He needs 3 days of clear cultures (meaning no infections) before they can proceed.  I sure wish that we could have just put a bandaid on his leak the other day and called it good but that's the problem with cerebral spinal fluid: not so many clotting factors in it like blood.  Once it flows, it doesn't stop - and leaking from you head is not so normal I guess.  Dr. O'Neill said today that the CT scan on Wednesday evening showed his ventricles had re-enlarged from a normal size, so we know he wasn't able to process the fluid.  And even though it's been a long process and we are back in the hospital again, I'm glad we gave it everything to see if he could go without the shunt. 

A few days ago, we met another little family with a baby girl who has the same cancer and prognosis as Michael.  Her name is Hazel and she is just as beautiful and sweet as her name.  She is about 3 months older than Michael and just about as far ahead in her diagnosis.  We met her and her parents when she was here for her second surgery following chemo.  When we had to come back to the hospital on Wednesday, we were seredipitously given a room next to theirs. 

Mikey's diagnosis and challenges have been heart-wrenching in so many ways.  But I think I have been able to keep my emotions under control by focusing on his immediate needs.  If I throw myself into the moment and technicalities of everything (he needs a diaper change, a cuddle, time to eat, some pain medicine, etc.), I think I cope much better.  But when I first met Hazel, I could not keep back the floodgate of emotions and tears.  Here was this beautiful baby suffering from cancer.  Her little scars and pain and tubes and body seemed all too familiar.  It was like I could embrace all of what I feel for my little Michael by seeing it in her.  It's been a lovely time that we are next door for now and probably won't have such timing again.  With her parent's permission, here is a little bit about Hazel if you would like to peak in on this sweet little one and keep her in your prayers too:
https://www.mylifeline.org//HazelAnne/