Cora's crazy non-linear course

Cora actually had an incredibly fine day today. As soon as I walked in this morning, I could tell she felt better than she had in a long time. It was like she had just snapped back into life.

I held her in a sitting position for a while so she could look around, and later she got to sit in a bouncy seat. Normal baby stuff! She definitely enjoyed the changes in perspective, although she did look a bit worried at some points.

It was a big day, medically, too. We had a conference with all the various doctors caring for Cora, and while they are still perplexed, they all believe that Cora's heart function is showing real signs of improvement. Though they don't really know how to explain these improvements, they're pretty excited about things for the time being. No one knows if she will continue to improve or if she will do what she's done before, which is improve for a time only to decline again.

Only time will tell that.

But I did have a glimpse this evening when I could see that maybe our road is turning. Things that were completely off the table -- like going home on medications, like not imminently needing a transplant -- at least for now, appear to be back on the table. The old Hail Mary, presented as our only hope of Cora's recovery, may in fact be in play.

We still have her heart block and rhythm issues to deal with, even if her function becomes very good. She has many hurdles she'll have to jump in order to get to the place where we could consider going home. So as usual, it will be a longish road. But last week's road only had two possible outcomes, and now we have at least three.

But we'll see. What we always hear is, "Cora is complicated." I almost think she enjoys doing weird things and watching everyone try to figure her out. She could care less. She's just sucking on Binky Dog and watching the people come and go. And as usual she seems much, much wiser than the rest of us.

I still can't get over the change she's shown in the last few days. Everything is so extreme in this world we're living in. One morning they're talking to us about how they'll keep Cora alive until a transplant. The next day they're telling us she might not need one. So dramatic; so extreme. I barely have the emotions to keep up with it all.

I don't think I'll ever understand why we are on this path or why Cora has had to go through so much in her short life. But I do treasure every day we get to have her here, and certainly every day she feels better. However abnormal her course, we are on it.

Those deep Cora eyes were shining today. And her little spirit was very magnificent, and all who saw her noticed.