Take me back to Tuesday…

I’m sitting here for the 2nd night in a row of listening to my son gasp for air and I’m pissed off. I’m really fucking pissed off.

I put up the pics and a couple videos on the post about his surgery being completed the other evening.

Well, here’s an experiment for you to do at home and if you are not completely fucking aggravated, then you are a greater person than I could be. Grab your nostrils, pinch them shut, and then try to breathe through your mouth. Yeah, COMPLETELY through your mouth. No cheating. Try to do this with a cold, with some congestion in your chest. It’s damn near impossible, you just about knock yourself out. Hyperventilating and all that shit.

Note the picture of my son’s cleft pre-surgery (listed below again)

Note how it’s open on either side of his nose.

Note his little sparkling eyes, his happy little face, his excitement.

It is easy for him to breathe in that picture. It was easy for him to breathe just 3 days ago.

Yes, I know that this surgery is, in the end, a good thing, but right now it almost seems like too much of a good thing.

He woke up last evening, doped up out of his fucking mind, around 11:30pm and has been up since then. It’s 11pm as I type this. He’s 5 months old and he’s been up almost 24 hours straight. Well, actually let me rephrase. He’s TRIED to sleep, oh God he’s tried. All fucking day he’s tried. If he sits still for any longer than 90 seconds, he gets all glassy-eyed and drifts into another world. He looks like a zombie (and not the kind that I’m a fan of). It’s different when you see him. It’s no laughing matter. It tears the heart right out seeing him try so hard to just FUCKING SLEEP and then wake up crying for 30 seconds, and 30 seconds only, because he’s not actually awake. His eyes don’t even open when he cries out because he DOESN’T WANT TO WAKE UP, ONLY WANTS TO SLEEP. He’s fucking doped up and tired. When he DOES open his eyes, it’s only for a moment and he looks so sad and exhausted that it hurts The Wife and I to see it.

I can probably count the times that I’ve cried in the past 10 years on one hand but in the past 3 days, I’ve cried TWICE. First time was in “The Hugs and Kisses Room” at the hospital, when parents are forced to say goodbye and good luck to their children before surgery. Second time was today after running those errands I mentioned in my review for “Little Black Book”. Just seemed like alot of shit to take in at once. We have had him in our arms since last night’s wake-up EVERY MINUTE. We’ve tried to set him down and let him sleep but it only lasts for awhile.

I don’t know when he’s going to crash-and-burn but it won’t be pretty. Either the drugs will finally knock him the fuck out or the lack of sleep will force him to learn a new way to breathe because he HAS TO SLEEP EVENTUALLY, NO MATTER WHAT.

I don’t even know why I bothered to write this, maybe I thought it would be therapeutic, I dunno.

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