As I picked him up to take him to the car, he sounded pretty junky, in fact, really junky. But we were running late and I figured I'd give him 'til we got out to the car and if he still sounded bad, I'd suction him then. (It's probably only 50 feet or so.) We also don't have him on the pulse/ox during the time we're moving him 'cause I simply can't carry him, his ventilator, roll the oxygen tank and carry the pulse/ox.
We get out to the car, I set him down, I set down the ventilator. I turn the vent around so that the numbers can be read while we're driving, and uh oh. It's dark. Yeah, it's not on. Nothing happening. Brilliant mom switched him and didn't turn the stupid machine on!
Sorry, sorry, sorry! I get it turned on, put him in his seat and buckle him. Then I start wondering, if I didn't turn it on (I've never forgotten that before), did I turn on the oxygen tank? I know I cracked it open with the wrench, but did I dial it on with the knob? Um, nope, I didn't.
Poor kid. And I don't know where he's at right now, 'cause remember, we don't carry him with the pulse/ox and I'm just getting it plugged back into him. But he was still smiling and laughing at me, so I don't think he was scared.
About that time, Joseph came out and got in the car. "Mom, he's only at 83 and it's a good wave pattern." Yeah, that would be because he's trying to play catch-up after mom screwed up. I'm so grateful for a happy little guy who forgives his mom for messing up. And I'm back to paying more attention to what I'm doing.