The Numbers

Numbers. Do you ever think about them? I've never been a numbers guy. Never gave them much thought one way or another. But over the course of the last 23 days I've learned numbers can literally mean the difference between life and death.
Numbers like 17, 235, 15,12, 160, 87, 65/45, and 23 all became to mean everything in my Granddaughter's world. Emily was born 17 weeks premature on November 12th.and was transferred to room 235 of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Stormont-Vail Hospital. This was also the day my journey through her world of numbers began.
Good morning Emily, I'm your Grandpa. I know, I'm kind of big and ugly. But you'll get used to me. Hey, look at those numbers on the ventilator. The nurses tell me 15 is excellent for your oxygen level. And that the vent setting doesn't get much better than a 12. I know it's been a pretty rough first day for you, so I'm not going to stay too long. You be a good girl and mind the nurses. I'll see you in the morning. And remember that Grandpa loves you.
And so our daily routine began. We talked about all the adventures we were going to have once she got to come home. First and foremost I explained she was going to have to put on some weight. At 1lb., 4oz., it was going to be hard for her to ride a bike. I offered to start bringing her chocolate chip cookies and pop. While Emily thought it was a good idea, the nurses didn't think so. We talked about her first day of school, about the fishing trips we were going to take. She was really excited about going 4-wheeling in the mountains of Colorado.
I told her how lucky she was to have two Grandmothers Linda and Debbie that loved her so much. We talked about all her aunts, uncles, and cousins. I warned her about the stupid cats and dogs she'd meet. I even warned her about staying away from boys. I'm not sure, but I think I saw her blushing after this conversation. But mostly, she liked hearing about her Mommy and Daddy.
Over the next few days I learned about the other numbers on the monitor above her bed. The top one was her heart rate. I learned that 160 was a very good number indeed. And that 87 indicated how much oxygen was in her blood. The 65/45 was the blood pressure.
All day and night long the doctors and nurses watched these numbers. They made adjustments to the machines or medications according to what the numbers told them. They were very up front with us from the beginning. Some days were pretty good. Others were pretty bad, it all depended on the numbers. The nurses referred to this as the roller coaster ride.
Monday December 4th was an exceptionally good day. Her numbers were even better that they had been the previous weekend. She was finally able to open her eyes for the first time. They were the biggest, most beautiful, brown eyes I had ever seen. We talked about riding the train at Gage park. I blew her a kiss, told her Grandpa loved her, and assured her I'd see her in the morning.
Sometime around 9:00 Monday night the hospital called. Emily had taken a turn for the worse, and we needed to get there as soon as we could. It was the numbers, the 15 and 12 had turned into 101 and 40. The 160 was now a 50. The 87 was somewhere around 35 now, and the blood pressure that once read a steady 65/45 wasn't even registering anymore. They told us her system was shutting down, she was dying, and didn't think she'd be able to hang on for much more than 3 or 4 more hours.
While ultimately the numbers got the best of her, she did beat the 3 and the 4. She was able to hang on about another 24 hours. And in doing so we were all able to say our goodbyes. While I'm not sure what others said to her. For me, I held her tiny hand, kissed her on the forehead, told her it was okay if she had to go, and to remember that Grandpa loved her.
There are three more numbers to this story though. We had her with us for 23 days, 4 hours, and 42 minutes. And for that I'll always be grateful.