Today at around 5:30 pm we will get a diagnosis--maybe.  This e-mail is just for fun.  Tomorrow you'll get the plan of care (maybe) and what they found during his surgery.

Little fact-oids about our stay in Nebraska:

This hospital has four lymphoma pathologists.  That means that there are four people who only look at a specific type of cancer biopsies. That's a LOT.  I'm not sure but I don't think Indiana has one.

We are staying at the Lied (lead) Transplant Center.  It is in the hospital and about two minutes from Zachary's room.  It has a bedroom and a little suite attached.  There are washers down the hallway.  The cost is $60 a night including tax.

Jody (Zachary's mom) Michael (the dad) and I sometimes meet for coffee and breakfast in the cafeteria around 9:15ish, have coffee or breakfast together, and then head up to hear what the doctor has to say for the day.

Dr. Vose is the reason we are here.  She is the anti-Dr. Joyce—our Bloomington oncologist.  Dr. Joyce just oozes warmth and caring.  Dr. Vose, whom we will have our first big chat with today, appears to be very …………..it's hard to describe.  It's not that she doesn't care, but for example, she has never introduced herself to us and we have met every morning since we got here.  You'll have to take my word for the fact she's not cold.  I was just used to Dr. Joyce.

Breakfast cost $6.09 this morning for three cereals (one hot), two bananas, two bottles of water, milk and honey.

They use electronic medical records, which allows the doctors to interface very, very well.

You cannot imagine the money this place has spent.  It's mostly private money.  When Warren Buffet started his investment company 40 years ago he started with his buddies' money, all of whom lived right here in Omaha.  One of the doctors here told us that his patient is a billionaire from Buffet stock and he can't get him on the phone because he's out planting his soybeans.  Many won't spend a dime on a car but they'll plunk down millions for the medical center.  It's just amazing.

There is a spirit of excellence in everything and I mean everything. Michael was purchasing a glass of orange juice from the cafeteria and the cashier noticed that his OJ was a little watery.  "Let me have the OJ changed out for you."  Michael said it was fine and she came back again with 'I want you to leave here only saying great things about our medical center.'  This was the cashier at the cafeteria not the head of surgery!

I'm quite sure that Michael and I are the only ones who take taxis. We won't when we come back.  We'll rent a car.  To get from here to Target to get a shaver for Zachary cost $15 each way and was 30 blocks.

Dara and I take walks every day.  It is the highlight of my time here. We look for quaint streets to walk down.  It's our little adventure for the day.

The University of Nebraska, like the IU Medical Center, is a teaching hospital unlike Bloomington hospital which is a community hospital. One of the many differences is that they use PA's (physician assistants), residents, and nurses quite a bit.\

Dr. Vose runs a tight ship.  She does rounds starting at 10:00 and works her way around the floor.  This is good because in our past experiences, physicians would stop by anytime and you couldn't plan to be there.

Omaha has the luxury of space so Zachary's room is large.  (Maybe 50% more than Bloomington's hospital rooms.)

Today is the 9th day in a row that Zachary has been hospitalized. When we were in Bloomington and his fever kept going up and up and he was so sick I thought 'we need a Miracle.'

Omaha, Nebraska.  You gotta be kidding me.  I didn't even know where Omaha was on a map until just the day before yesterday.

It's funny where miracles come from and where hope arrives where I least expect it.  I was feeling so down recently and I was on the elevator with a tiny child who had tubes running into her.  And she was just beaming as 18 month olds can do.  Just smiling at me and flirting.

You gotta be kidding me.  Here this tiny little girl is so full of hope.  It's funny where miracles come from and where hope arrives where I least expect.

I will never, if I live to be 100 years old, be able to repay the love and support that each of you has given our family.   And I am learning that it's not about repayment.  It's about being a beam of love and hope just like that little girl was for me.  After this experience I am quite sure that we never know someone else's story and what they might need from us.  So far the cafeteria worker and the little girl in the elevator have been my best teachers and givers of hope.

Love to all of you.

Ann