Surgery came and decided that we'll put in a central line (Broviac, which was our original plan).  When? Sometime today. We're in surgery standby. It's kind of like a flight standby only more stressful, less-comfortable furniture (imagine that!), and less likely someone will miss their gate. Mothers kissing kids (teenagers, too) goodbye as they're wheeled away to have tonsils out, knees fixed, and appendixes removed. Tears in their eyes and stress in their hearts. God bless mothers (and fathers). We got called in at 2:30. Consent signed, ready to go.  Just a small incision, possibly have to cut into the artery in her neck, the risks are punctured/collapsed lung and anesthetic side-effects. He assures me they have a bed ready and waiting in ICU for us. Ok. Fine. Let's do this. I'm getting anxious. Our nurse leaves back to the desk. Surgeons come and go, patients in one after another. 30 mins goes by and our surgeon comes to say they're running out of anesthesiologists. He'll be right back. At 3:30 he comes back and pulls up a chair. I already know what he's about to say.  They've pushed us until later today. There's a baby in ICU with a perforated bowel. I say, "ok." He says, "really? That's it?" "No, good luck with the surgery." He says, as he lets a sigh of relief escape, "Thank you." "It's not your fault, it's your job." Besides, I happened to look over his shoulder just before he sat down. Dory helped me keep it together. "Just keep swimming...." She said. Signs like that can't be ignored. I'm grateful we are not the perforated bowel case. A little weight loss and setback is all we have to worry about in the here and now. We're hoping for 6pm... We're on standby.... I wish I had a vice to pass the time. ;)