these are the doctors in your neighborhood

Today Ford's pacing wires were taken out, as well as the chest tubes. His heart still has an unusual ryhthm - but the doctors, though puzzled by it, say that it's not a problem. As for the chest tubes, the bleeding stopped Friday, as did the chyle once his feeds were switched to "monogen" which doesn't have any triglycerides. They will keep him on 100% monogen for two weeks to make sure the thoracic duct heals before restarting his fortified breast milk diet. When they restart the milk, they will be watching closely to make sure the duct has healed - we would see difficulty breathing if his chest was filling with chyle again, and a chest x-ray would confirm. But hopefully the duct is well on it's way to good health and in two weeks time, he'll be switched back to milk seamlessly.

Two weeks - I wonder what else will be different then? It's amazing how much he's changed in the past two days. His colour is much better - he's down right (relatively) rosy. When he cries he still gets "blueberry head" as one nurse called it, but I think that's a somewhat permanent condition. He otherwise is breathing on his own. Yes! No bi-pap mask! Yesterday they trialed him off the mask for two hours. It went well, but his work of breathing was increasing a little so they went to put it back on. He threw such a fit that they gave up on the bi-pap and decided to try putting him on high flow. He got even MORE upset and de-satted to the 40s. They let him settle off any breathing assistance and his sats recovered. To avoid another meltdown, they let him stay unencumbered, just with an oxygen mask near by so he would get some "blow by", and decided to wait and see how he did. He had some mild in-drawing throughout the day, but not enough to warrant high flow or bi-pap, and now, Sunday night, he is still breathing freely on his own.

THAT'S very exciting, considering Dr. Seer thought he'd need at least a couple weeks before he could be weened. Yay Ford!

They also took out his ART line - not because they wanted to, but because it stopped working. That leaves his PICC line, a peripheral IV, and NG tube and NJ tube. Practically nothing!

Ford does seem to be continuing to return to himself. We're waiting for him to smile again and keep watching the "birdies" video below to remind ourselves of how beautiful it is. We miss our happy baby!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Children's Hospital has these cardboard stand ups scattered throughout the hospital featuring various staff members washing their hands with Microsan pushing the slogan "Stop the Spread". I think they're funny - some of the Doctors are in scrubs in their photos, some in "street clothes", a couple in full-on spandex bicycle outfits. And what I really love is that every couple weeks, they get rotated through the various locations in the hospital, so that a new cardboard Dr greets you at the elevators, or by the cafeteria. I don't know who's job it is to switch them up, but I always look forward to that day of the month.

This is Dr. Sanatani's cardboard mannequin (we've never actually seen Sanatani smile in real life):
This is Dr. Campbell who did Ford's surgery:And this is Dr. Hayley, Ford's pediatrician:

What a difference a nurse makes

Ford seems markedly improved today. Christa was able to cuddle him and even briefly play pattycake. He has taken up his old interest in ornithology with renewed vigour and took to his soother for the first time since the surgery. We had a hard time leaving this evening because he seemed to show no signs of drifting off to sleep. It's great to have him suddenly so bright eyed, but why does he have to do it at 11pm?

There has been no more sign of chyle accumulating in his drainage tubes, but that has more to do with the switch they made to his feeds than the condition having resolved itself. His body isn't producing as much of the fluid anymore because there isn't anymore fat coming in to make it from. They will wait a few days and then do another test to see for sure what the deal is.

He is doing well on the BiPAP from a respiratory point of view, but from a behavioural point of view he is clearly not tolerating it. We feel buoyed by the number of advocates we've had today all pushing for them to remove the apparatus and try him on high-flow. This morning after rounds, the gloomy Intensivist Dr. Seer (I'm not spelling that right, but its phonetically correct) said we should expect him to be on the BiPAP for months given his past struggles, but the surgeon came around later and scoffed at it, suggesting they ought to take it off ASAP, that it might be doing more harm than good for the amount of distress is causes him. A couple nurses seconded his opinion and it sounds like tomorrow they will trial him off it. It's a horrible mask, that we have yet to get a good photo of, and we'll be happy to see it go.

Ford's "central line," which entered his jugular vein through his neck, was removed today. One less line! Yay! I guess the risk of it forming a clot in his neck was too high to let it linger.


His heart's electrical system is still all screwy. He goes for long periods of time in "Sinus rhythm" (normal) but still regularly drifts into "Junctional escape rhythm" (not normal). So he's still hooked up to the pacemaker but it's being used less. Everyone seems optimistic but they are still actively watching it. I was quite pleased with myself, after becoming familiar over the last 4 months with the heart's mechanical components, to get into a conversation with our nurse this evening about P, Q, R, S, and, T waves and the whole electrical side of things. I am well on my way to becoming the cardiologist I always wanted to be (apparently).


(Begin arguably unnecessary Rant)

We've really been struggling again with the ICU's inconsistent 'confidentiality' policy which frequently has us barred from entering the ICU or thrown out when they want to talk about someone else near us. We've had to argue and push our way into the ward at some point every day this week and are really starting to resent having to do it. Mostly that's because we've had so many sympathetic and understanding nurses who have gone out of their way to impress upon the doctors and administrative staff that we *really* want to be there when big decisions about Ford's care are being deliberated... but as soon as they go off shift their impressions trail out the door behind them.

Yesterday our nurse, who was commiserating with us (and even went around the ward putting signs up on all the phones notifying anyone who picked up that if we were calling to come we ought to be let in) said it was mostly a problem with 'older' nurses who'd been around when parents were rarely included or consulted.

As far as I can tell, there does seem to be a big shift in attitude around a family's participation in their child's care. In Edmonton I remember the first week when the NICU doctors explained "rounds" to me. They suggested we go home to sleep at night so that we could get up early and be at the bedside when they came by. That was our time to ask questions and hear about any the changes they were making. It was the same in the PICU.

But here (and I know I've complained about this before) we are made to feel at best like our presence is irrelevant to Ford and his treatment and at worst like we are a nuisance to him and an impediment to his recovery.

The daily experience of having fight with someone on the phone to get permission to come in and see our baby is exhausting, humiliating, and incredibly disempowering.

But then tonight, after a horrible day, we had an amazing nurse who went out of her way to entertain Ford and make sure he was comfortable, who made us feel welcomed and involved, who listened to and answered all my obscure and unnecessary questions.. and I left feeling happy.

What a difference a nurse makes

(End Rant)

Iatrogenic artifact

Our hopes of breezing through this visit to the ICU have been squashed today by the appearance of yet another unlikely post-op complication. Last night I noticed some sandy brown liquid accumulating in one of Ford's drainage tubes and asked the nurse if it might be lymphatic fluid. He assured us that it was just plasma separating from the blood and we went home "happy". But this morning it looked a little worse, more milky in colour, and the nurse confirmed my gloomy suspicion that it was chylothorax.

We knew it was something that could happen, but we were all crossing our fingers that it wouldn't. At some point during the surgery Ford's thoracic lymph duct was accidentally cut. The fluid is now building up in his chest cavity putting undo pressure on his lungs and heart. The problem is that there is little they can do to stop it and so we will have to wait until it either clears up on its own (potentially months of living with drainage tubes and their risk for serious infection) or another surgery to go in an tie it off. When the tests came back positive they immediately switched his feeds to a high-protein, fat-free formula to somehow counter what is accumulating inside of him. We are really not sure why they have to do this and will try to find out tomorrow. But the formula is really bad for babies, who I guess need a lot of fat in their diet, and isn't recommended for more than a few weeks. So no more breast milk for Ford, whose weight will undoubtedly start to plunge again. Boo.

It's hard not to want to get angry at the surgeon. We felt that too after Ford's diaphragm was paralysed in Edmonton. The idea that they could just slip and accidentally cut something that compromises his recovery is incredibly frustrating. But it's good to keep in mind that Ford's heart is the size of a walnut right now, that the tubes they're cutting and suturing are barely mm's in diameter. You still have to respect their nimble hands.

Ford's heart is still being paced. This morning it looked like it was recovering a little but as the day wore on he slipped back into complete heart-block. Although funnily, anytime he was poked or repositioned, which seems to really distress him, his heart would kick in and start beating its own rhythm. There is still a lot of confidence that he will get over this and not require a permanent pacemaker.

Silver lining of the day: Ford was extubated to Bi-PAP, a variation of CPAP, which is a step in the right direction in terms of him breathing on his own. If you can recall our struggles with the CPAP experience in Edmonton you might remember that this was not the best thing as far as Ford was concerned. Its design was awkward and uncomfortable and he seemed really angry while wearing it. This version looks much more comfortable, but is rather strange to look at. It looks a bit like a cross between a fencing mask, a boxing mask, and diving gear. All we can really see of his face are his puffy eyes. Fortunately he is still heavily sedated and not in much of a state to struggle against it.

That's about it for the day. But to end on a more or less positive note. Christa and I have been googling Ford Riley this evening and discovering that our preciously unique name already exists! Curse this overpopulated planet!

C. Ford Riley - A horrible painter as far as we're concerned

Ford Riley - The man who decided the world needed more of "The Land Before Time," good god...

The Ford Riley - A CAR!? You've got to be kidding me. It was bad enough that his astrological sign is Taurus

Riley Ford - The guy who tried before but just got it all backwards

Kurt Cobain's Glenn-head or How I got my Superior Bidirectional Cavopulmonary Shunt

Not too much has changed since the last post. Ford is being tweaked by the ICU staff and is in relatively stable condition. They were unable to wean him off of the ventilator over night and he will remain intubated for at least another day. As with the last surgery, they are trying to manage his oxygen saturations by increasing and decreasing the artificial supply they give him. He's sitting comfortably at 25% right now, which is pretty close to room air. Hopefully that will remain a minor issue instead of the constant irritation it posed post-Norwood. The bigger issue is weaning him off the pressure support they are supplying his lungs. Apparently they are quite "wet" and he has been struggling (as usual, perhaps) with a collapsed left, lower lobe. One of the consequences of this latest surgery is that his lungs are now overwhelmed with new blood flow and are probably in a state of shock, if not total panic. The increase in flow is responsible for their 'wetness' and tendency to collapse, and it is also producing what I suspect to be a mild case of "Glenn-head."

Prior to operating, Dr. Campbell sat down with us to explain what was going to happen as well as all the known side-effects. Glenn-head was a term he used to describe an often dramatic swelling of the head as a result of the sharp increase in CVP (central venous pressure). Ford's new physiology has all the blood returning from his upper body, via the "superior vena cava," bi-passing his heart and draining directly into his lungs. Without the pumping of the heart working to suck the blood down, the flow is relying on residual pressures and gravity to move. If his lungs are not expanding fully they start to put resistance on that flow causing it to back up. Into his head. Not only does it look unpleasant, but we are told it produces extreme head-aches. For what it's worth, healthy adults have a CVP of 0-2, healthy newborns of 8-10 and Ford's was sitting steady at 28-30 for most of the evening. He looked markedly more swollen when we got back to hospital after dinner this evening and by the time we left it looked like he had bulbous insect eyes. My poor baby! In many ways he looked worse than yesterday, despite the dressing change (which significantly lowered his gore-score).

This experience was tempered by frequent comments from nurses and doctors, all excitedly relaying how wonderful he looked and how well he was doing, with me slapping my forehead saying, You've got to be kidding me!

But I guess it's really all par for the course. If they aren't panicking we shouldn't either. Maybe in that sense being in the ICU is like being on plane. An incredibly turbulent, 5 month plane ride with the same bad sandwiches every day (although not lately thanks to Paige and the food train! We really have been eating like kings the last few days and that makes all the difference. Thanks guys!)

Otherwise, he is still being "paced," which was a bit disheartening to see this morning. We were told (and are still being told) that it is a temporary phenomenon. His heart, having now suffered its 4th (if you count the 2 cardiac cath's) insult, is potentially a little ticked off. He is suffering from something called "heart-block" where the electrical signals that trigger the 4 chambers (or in his case, 2 chambers) to beat rhythmically are firing inconsistently. We are reassured to hear that he still has an underlying rhythm (around70bpm) and are hoping whatever damage has been done clears up soon.

If you will allow me to comment briefly on my declining sociability (perhaps these last few months have been less like a plane and more like being locked in an attic for years), I will offer a small piece of wisdom. When given the opportunity to comment on the wardrobe of the attractive and highly-educated Cardiac CNS, especially if offered a surgeon's preface: You look so rock and roll today! Do not glibbly quip: Yeah! you look like Kurt Cobain.

I swear I meant it reverently. But the grim and greasy-haired king of grunge rock has so little to do with the world of congenital cardiovascular nursing... I may have totally alienated one of our best advocates.

in brief

the surgery went well. my exhaustion keeps me from elaborating, but he is doing as well as could be expected post op. he has had some irregular rhythm since the surgery so is on a pace maker, but that is not uncommon and they expect he won't need it in a couple days. they're aiming to extubate tomorrow morning. wow.

understandably, he seems pretty uncomfortable, but they are keeping him sedated with morphine and midazolam. he otherwise has an array of lines and dainage tube, but he did come back with his sternum closed which is really great.

we are glad this day is over and he is safely on the other side of this procedure.

more later. good night.

as scheduled

at 11pm monday night, things are proceeding as planned and Ford will be having surgery tomorrow, tuesday, morning.

the whole thing, from being wheeled off and back, will take about 5 hours and starts at 8am.

the best $20 i ever spent

Ford LOVES his "birdie" mobile. he never seems to tire of its slow circling around his head and cries that it be restart once it automatically stops turning after 5 minutes. adorable.

full of grace

tuesday. Ford is scheduled for his glen procedure on tuesday. medical staff are quick to add that should an emergency arise, he would get bumped, not being in critical condition himself. we experienced that for just one day with Ford's norwood, but have seen other families go through numerous postponements. so it is with a grain of salt that we're preparing for the 22nd.

22 has always been my favourite number - what can i say, i was born on a 22nd day. i don't find it at all auspicious that his surgery will (may) take place on the 22nd, but it does make me smile to see that number.

Dr. Human had wanted Ford to go to the ICU 2 days in advance of the surgery to be put not on milrinone but some other drug to the same effect. Cecilia, who delivered the "he is on the schedule for tuesday" news (with the all important disclaimer emphasis on SCHEDULE), was unaware of this idea (doctors not in the loop? quel suprise!) and said ICU is rather full at present. she's going to bring it up with Dr. Duncan, the cardiologist who is on service this weekend.

meanwhile, here is Ford disguised as a lady bug:

no date yet

ya ya ya i know you're all waiting to hear when his surgery will be - we are too, still. when Dr. Human said "maybe 10 days" he seemed instead to be predicting when they would confirm a date. he thought we'd have a date yesterday, and today said he would again try and get "surgery" to confirm. he thinks it will be next week... but maybe that's another "10 days".

you'll be the first to know once we do.

meanwhile, we did have a couple more outings. the first, as documented below, was to the great grandparents. for the second, Ford and i drove out to UBC to meet Nick and lounge about on the grass. for the third, we went to visit our friends Paige, Hart and Asha and lounge about on their living room floor. each outing was a great adventure. i learned on day 1 that i rely greatly on the monitor he is connected to here in his hospital room. when he is/we are awake, we turn off the monitor. but we're still always LOOKING right at him. in that first car ride, i felt the grip of panic in my chest with him in the back seat where i couldn't see him. he was quiet and i had no way to tell if he was still breathing, other than knowing he quite probably was still breathing. turns out he cries at every red light (the boy likes to be on the go!) so i had the reassurance at every stop that he was still alive. it is going to take me some time to be able to look away, sans monitor, and not feel afraid.

for our second outing, he just plain screamed for the duration of the drive to UBC. a stress of another kind! but in a strange way i actually enjoyed it. that is because it was having what i think is a normal stressful parenting experience. having the stress of a "heart baby" is not something most parents can relate to, but having the unhappy baby in the back seat is a wonderfully normal challenge, as far as i'm concerned - and there we were, at 4 months, getting to feel it for the first time. "so this is what it's like" i thought. of course when Ford screams his head off, it still is a bit unique as he was drenched with sweat from the exertion and his feeding tube had come out a bit from it. sigh.

on the third outing he resumed go=happy and stop=sad as a passenger. at Paige, Hart and Asha's, they had hung a "welcome Ford" banner and had fresh baked goods to go with it. Ford promptly fell asleep. it was a lovely time.

that was sunday and we haven't been out since. sunday night he was put back on 24 hour continuous feeds. to facilitate our leaving the hospital, his feeds were condensed to be given over 20 hours, so that for 4 hours he could be unplugged and mobile. but it was kind of making him barf all the time. we loved the taste of freedom, but not at the price of consta-puking-baby, so agreed to slow the feeds back down and stay put.

another way we could get out is if a portable pump were available. Dr. Sarah is trying to get us one. the hospital won't give us one since we're not technically outpatients, so the social worker (Daniel? Dennis? he looks like Gordon, in his younger years, from sesame street) is approaching variety club to pay for a rental. hopefully that can be arranged before the next surgery - having these small moments of a much more life-like life is like an oasis in a desert, and we've got to fill up our camel humps to get us through the next long haul.

on a different note, thank you to whoever left the anonymous gift in our mailbox wrapped in the "take thai home" coloured peice of paper! what a surprise and mystery - we had a great lunch with that, thank you!

3 hours

First off. While we owe an immense amount of thanks to so many people for help of all kinds over the last few months ( I have been planning to write a post in praise of you all, but the enormity of the task both logistically and emotionally has so far kept me from it), I wanted to thank those of you who surprised us at the reception last night. It was a real treat to get out of the hospital together and then to get to share it with so many friends and family, many of whom we hardly ever get to see. Thank you so much!

Your tactful and polite opinions of my work were also much appreciated. :)

Now onward with the real business of the day!

Ford escaped! Unbeknownst to the staff of 3M, Ford has been tunneling his way towards freedom with nothing more than his ridiculously sharp fingernails and a cleverly placed (and slightly racy) poster of his future wife, Adelaide (God knows where he got the idea from, it's not as if the Shawshank Redemption has been on TV every single day for the last 15 years). Despite a marked increase in the amount of debris they were discovering in his diapers no one raised the alarm and we were excited to discover today that our precocious child had dug straight down to the basement to where we park our car. Bravo Ford.

We quickly whisked him off to visit his great grandparents (who have been promising him amnesty for some time now) and spent the afternoon bouncing him on our knees and poking at his belly.


He looked a little scared at first. But I think he got the hang of it.




We only had a few hours to visit today and it was really amazing to get to take him to see his great grandparents. If the weather holds (health-wise) we will get to take him out for a few hours every day until he goes for his next surgery, which could really be only days away at this point. We are eager to enjoy some time out in the wider world and may come knocking on a door near you soon.

I think the adventure wiped him out, he's been sound asleep since we got back at 5:30 and it's 11:30 now... which has me worried for the night. I've got 5 hours of art critique to stand through tomorrow and the thought of doing that on less hours of sleep has me more than a little nervous.

potential countdown begins and blue is for boys

a third post in as many days after a week of quiet - we're so busy suddenly!

Dr. Human seemed reserved at rounds this morning, but he was pleased that Ford has gone along with plan A (to remain stable and not need more/new meds and/or aortic patch surgery) and said he'd look at having the Glen done in "about 10 days". 10 days exactly is september 18th. we'll wait and see what they firm up.

i'm excited to think of Ford moving forward with this whole 3 stage modification business, but scared too of seeing him, specifically his sternum, cut open again. i'd say the thought breaks my heart, but it's his heart that's going to have the real tinkering. my sweetpea!

in the mean time Dr. Kat, the senior pediatric resident of wee stature and thick eyebrows, who we like, asked if, since he is doing so well, might we be able to take him home for a week before the surgery.

what?

after wishing so much that we could take him home the suggestion surprised me. yes i want him home, but he's SAFE here. wide-eyed i said "i was thinking we could just go out for the afternoon!" and Dr. Human agreed "let's start with that".

so Dr. Sarah, junior resident of great height and thick ankles, who's growing on me, is on the trail of a portable feeding pump, as he'd need to stay on continuous feeds. as long we choose a time in between major med admins (which are 8am and 8pm - a wide window) we can take him out on the town some time soon!

which makes my sudden installation of the car seat on saturday worthwhile. i was in a state of wanting things to be different - though knew putting it in could just serve as a disappointing reminder, i thought it could also maybe be a statement of hope. i'm glad now that the car is ready to go, as soon as Ford is too.

where will he first outing be? i don't think i could take him home. the thought makes me sad. but to the ocean on these last summer days perhaps... or lunch with friends? or maybe to nick's show on thursday! the world is our, limited to a few hours, oyster.

yesterday, we enjoyed another walk around the hospital. on his own, Ford doesn't look so pale, but looking at this after it is evident that he is a little blue!
what a mixed-blood cutie!

Let's put Ford on the back burner for a moment, he's sleeping right now anyway.

It was pointed out to me today that there are perhaps many more people reading the blog than those who have subscribed to it. While I will hold back the impulse to publicly shame you (and yet still manage to do it in a backhanded way), I will not hold back the impulse to drop some shameless self-promotion with the hopes that all of you (including those who prefer to remain in hiding) who live here in town, will be interested to hear:

I am participating in a group exhibition of local painters that opens tomorrow (Tuesday Sept. 8th) and runs through the week at UBC's Great Northern Way studio (555 Great Northern Way). There will be a reception for the show this Thursday (Sept. 10th) from 8-11 and I would encourage you all to come down and see the work. Hours of operation throughout the week are 2-6. If nothing else, please check out the show's link which has some samples of the work and details about the location.

http://thedeadtwo.blogspot.com/

Christa and I will hopefully both be in attendance, abandoning baby Ford to the highly trained care of my sister/nurse, Stephanie. We will no doubt be chewing ravenously at the crumbs of our once hopping social life, perhaps even overcompensating for its disappearance with excessive quantities of hard liquour and desperate, uncomfortably clingy platitudes for all our friends, before we retreat back to our room on the ward.

Who would want to miss that!?

what a difference a week makes

a lot can happen in a week. or maybe when little happens, it can mean a lot. or maybe somewhere in between.

they ended up going ahead with the cardiac cath on september 1st. Ford's fever had been down for 24 hours and Dr. Human preferred, and we appreciated, to not dilly-dally.

while Ford was getting the procedure, we went to Second Cup. we enjoyed the time of a coffee together, with a view different than the hospital room and comfier chairs. my cell rang and i assumed it was the call that Ford was in the recovery room, but it was Dr. Human on speaker phone from "the lab". while checking the pressures of the pulmonary artery, they noticed the aortic arch had narrowed again (Ford had the aorta stretched 6ish weeks ago). in the noise of the coffee drinking crowd i gave verbal consent for them to dilate the aorta a second time.

Ford spent that night in the ICU, and returned upstairs on wednesday.

what followed was a lot of discussion and debate about the state of Ford's aorta, and an echo to aid the decision making. i'm going to skip all the possible scenarios discussed, from new/more drugs to additional surgery on the aorta before the Glen could be performed, as it was left that we would wait to see how the weekend went. if Ford did well, that would rule out most of the options.

here we are sunday evening, and Ford has had a great weekend! in fact, the past few days have been a few of the best in Ford's life, save for his time in utero i would suspect. whether it was getting over whatever had been causing the fevers or stretching his aorta, who knows, but he's been in wonderful spirits. it turns out, if he's not being tormented with tests and pokes etc, he's a very mellow, patient and sweet baby! yippee! he's been spending the past few days smiling and playing and being all around ADORABLE.

here's a video of him and Nick making faces to prove it:



as a result of him being such a happy camper, we've increased the amount of "feed" he's getting orally. he had been, for the past few weeks, getting 15ml by bottle every 4 hours. he otherwise gets 696ml through his nj tube, so the oral feeds have been more for stimulation than nutrition; keeping him interested in and capable of feeding orally. he LOVES his bottle feeds and is always upset when the tablespoon amount is gone. today we went up to 25ml per feed and he handled it beautifully - no gagging, no spitting up. all last week he'd been gagging and vomiting quite frequently - HLHS babies have dreadful reflux. but they started a new drug on friday to relieve such distress and it's done wonders. no spontaneous dry heaving! what a delight!

beyond finding the narrowing of his arch, and in result of the intent of the cath, his pressures proved to be perfectly normal for his age - ie ready for his Glen procedure.

the cardiac team here will meet this week to discuss this. Dr. Human will then also call "Edmonton" for their opinion on the matter, as they work with more HLHS babies than Vancouver. then, Dr. Human et all will come up with a date for the Glen - "mid-september" was mentioned. which is actually quite soon isn't it? relatively.

in reply Dean(o), we are staying in Vancouver for the Glen. we had the choice of returning to Edmonton, but at this point, we'd rather not up and leave again, especially as Nick returns to UBC this week both taking and teaching classes. part of me is disappointed to not return to Edmonton and see all the people there who did so much for Ford in his first 7 weeks, but the surgeons here perform the Glen procedure often (it's a repair for many different heart defects) and we're pretty used to Human, Sanatani and the rest of them by now. (p.s. Ford is also disappointed to not see Ady again so soon :)

there. so now we wait for the docs to discuss and we enjoy Ford's new bright side.