A Farewell to Arms (or the IVs in them, anyway)

Ford's pic line was pulled out this afternoon after it had steadily started to leak over the last few days. Although he wasn't completely weaned off the two medications he was still getting intravenously, the risk of infection was too great to wait. So they discontinued them and out it came. While his long-term fate still sits in the 'it depends on him' category, delivered daily by shrugging, erudite neonatologists, we are happy to see it go. As there is now only one pump left, which supplies him with increasing amounts of breast milk, they've attached it to his bed and wheeled the IV pole away.

The IV pole was a leaning tower of terror, a Borg(es)ian (could be both the writer as well as the unstoppable race of cyborgs for whom resistance was so futile) tree of bubbling, blinking, dinging, glowing, and occasionally dripping "life". Its absence has changed the lay of the land (which we can finally see) as it no longer shields us from the others in our row. Its presence as identity affirming flagstaff is gone and we are left needing to reconsider Ford's aboriginal name: "One who takes much Midazolam." We almost feel naked without it. While Ford, who was basically naked with it, can now finally get dressed.

Unbundled after the event he promptly assumed a "Jesus Christ pose", savouring the languor of arms outstretched for the first time since birth. Three cheers!