All of us are waiting for him to come home. Life sometimes is lifeless. It has been thirteen days since he was born. He is still in the hospital. For the first 12 days, he was like this. Under phototherapy to get his bilirubin count reduced.
In the peak of summer. Under lights for 22 hours. For two hours everyday, he was with his mommy. We haven't named him. As his big brother is *achu* we have christened him *kuchu*.
They were pricking him and sucking out blood to be tested on a daily basis. Inspite of 11 gold medals in medicine, his doctor mother could not stop crying. ``He may not feel it like us,'' she said often.
The big brother and their grandma take the auto to the hospital everyday to be with his mommy and spend time with his little brother. Grandpa and daddy take alternate turns to travel the 500 miles to be with the dear ones.
Inspite of visiting the hospital daily, I could see him only on the tenth day. The little one at home hasn't seen him yet. She keeps asking us when will *kuchu* come home. I am not sure even the doctor knows answer to this question.
``His count is neither high for procedures nor low for him to go home,'' said the doctor. On the 12th day, mommy found him pale, apart from being yellowish. So they tested the haemoglobin level.
Soon, he was shifted to the neo-natal where his brother breathed life four years ago. He had a total transfusion. Two strangers had saved his life then. For his little brother, some stranger has been kind to lend his life-fluid. It was an ordinary transfusion. Nothing was taken out.
This morning, the little fellow was pinkish. Mommy and daddy looked happy. The count has gone up to 11. By tomorrow, the doc expected it to climb up to a safe 15. Pray, *kuchu* comes home this weekend. Even if you don't, pray for those half-a-dozen beauties under lights in a warm room, plugged with wires, connected to life-monitoring systems, and breathing hard.