Desat

Today's abbreviation, desat, is short for desaturation. I remember it as the blue number on Buzzy's monitor. When we first became acquainted with the NICU, a nurse told us that it would be like a roller coaster. There would be ups and downs. The numbers on Buzzy's monitor certainly gave evidence of this; they were always moving. Most times, her numbers would decrease gradually. When this happened, an alarm would indicate that she was close to having a brady, apnea, or desat. Sometimes, however, the numbers would plummet suddenly, triggering a much louder and quicker alarm. Either alarm unnerved me, but as you can imagine, a sudden drop was much more nerve-racking. One night on the way home from the hospital, we heard a similar sound at Whataburger when the timer for the fries went off. The workers that night, of course, had no idea why I started crying in the middle of the restaurant.

Desats kept Buzzy on oxygen until just days before she went home. Numerous attempts to wean her off the oxygen were unsuccessful. We would decrease her oxygen level, and she would do well at that level for a while, but she would inevitably get tired and move in the wrong direction. Afraid that we would have to take her home on oxygen, one day we walked into her room to discover her completely tube free for the first time. She was maintaining her oxygen saturation without assistance, which for a preemie is a huge milestone. The picture we took that day is one I will always cherish.

As I reflect on where we have been, I find it highly appropriate that the month in which we pause to give thanks coincides with Prematurity Awareness Month. I know I have much to be thankful for where Buzzy is concerned. When she screams at the top of her lungs, I find myself grateful that she is able to put so much into those screams. To me, they mean that her lungs work.