This is the most positive our nurse is able to be today. I don't blame her.
Dominic's liver kept getting bigger. They found some of the special drug they were about to order from Italy in the hospital, but it hasn't had much effect so far.
They gave him drugs to make him pee, just like back in September. But his diapers remain dry, and his weight - as low as 9.88 kilograms at the start of the month - is now 11.63.
He's uncomfortable, so they gave him morphine again. He doesn't look too bad until you lift up his shirt and see that burgeoning monster of a belly, full of liver and now kidney, too.
Everything he's endured with his liver has caused his kidneys to work harder, and now they're starting to fail. So today, while Trish and I were out getting a break at the movie theatre, we got a call from the hospital letting us know he's going to be moved to the intensive care unit.
I wasn't going to come to the hospital today. After driving through a snowstorm after work last night, I realized I was starting to feel ill. It got worse in the morning.
I'm here now, of course, albeit with a facemask on and unable to hold my son out of fear. Imagine what our fellow moviegoers were thinking when they saw us run out in a panic with a half hour left.
We're waiting to meet the ICU team. It'll be a new room, new rules, new nurses, and other parents who have been there have warned us they can't wait to come back to Unit 1 having been there.
Of course they can't wait. ICU means things are worse. Here means things are better. We all want better.
We don't know what's next, only that it's scary as hell.