Today, you are flying high. You've done far better off of the endo-tracheal tube than we ever thought you could, but your mother and I are wary of saying so. Even the doctors and nurses are impressed with your trajectory, but whenever they tell us so, they lean in and whisper: "But don't tell Ellie!" Your blood oxygen levels are high, you are breathing steadily, your blood gases are improving, and your heart rate is better than it has been in a long, long time...
But... we're coming up on the weekend. The dreaded weekend. It's been roughly seven weeks since you were born, and every weekend, without exception, something goes wrong and all of your progress is snuffed out. Last Sunday we thought we were going to break the apparent curse but 30 minutes before the stroke of midnight, you nearly suffocated.
Maybe, this time, you'll beat the curse for good.
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