Going... going...

Misty is not doing well these days. Since she's been home from the hospital, she hasn't been able to keep anything down... or more like in. See, everything Misty eats or takes in through her feeding tube leaks right back out from around her feeding tube. Her bowels aren't moving at all--the nurses say they hear no bowel sounds. In short, food isn't moving through her intestines and she's getting no nourishment and very little moisture. Unless there's a miraculous change, Misty isn't going to last long like this.

Last night (3/28), a little after 11 pm, Misty collapsed. Her muscles completely gave out and she sank to the floor. I thought for a moment that this was the end for Misty, but then she took a ragged breath and moved her head. Her nurse and I got Misty into a wheelchair and brought her into her room. I asked Misty if she could see me and she responded with very slurred words that she could see only black. Again I began to think that Misty was fading fast. I told her through my tears that I loved her and that if she needed to go, that we'd be ok. Suddenly her eyes popped open, as if to say that she wasn't going anywhere. I asked again if she could see me and she responded that I was "sparkly". We moved her from the wheelchair into the bed and got her comfortable. We thought for sure that it wouldn't be long. We brought in Paris and Cru (Paris was already awake, but Cru was sleeping). LeAndra was staying the night with one of her aunts, and calls were made to bring her home. Misty's nurse tried to take her blood pressure but her machine was unable to pickup a pulse. We sat with Misty, crying with each other and waiting. Misty's brothers and sisters all showed up as the night progressed as we all expected that these were our last goodbyes.

Around midnight, Misty seemed to stabilize. She returned to the condition she was in during the day--very tired, not speaking much, and mostly laying very still--but stable. The nurse was able to get a blood pressure reading which was low, but present. Around 3 am, many of us started dropping off to sleep.

By morning, not much had changed. In fact, now, more than 24 hours later, Misty is still about where she was. A little weaker, a little more exhausted, but still about the same. Again, without a miracle to get Misty's bowels pumping again, she can't survive long like this.