So…..Some quick updates on non-zombie stuff…
The surgery was supposed to take around two hours. It started at around 2pm EST on Wednesday and after two hours, we hadn’t heard anything yet. I killed some time by writing Chapter 4 of The IT Guy on my phone and then publishing it. By the way, to the people who have left comments about it, thank you. Also worth noting, “The IT Guy” is a work of fiction from my twisted mind. Just so you know. There. Got that out of the way.
We got a bit worried but it turned out, as the doctor told us later, that they went ahead and performed more than they had originally planned on. By doing the “extra” that they did in this 2nd surgery, they minimized the time and effort needed for the 3rd major surgery. It’s a good thing, trust me. Within about 3-4 weeks, we should be able to see for sure a defined difference. The front of his mouth should have only a minimal slit or hole, instead of being pretty open still. It’s funny because his voice has already changed because now he has a roof to his mouth. It changes the sound of his cry, his grunts, and his squeals.
And oh yeah, he’s back to his happy little self. His personality is back, unlike his first surgery back in January. He was so doped up back then that he was zonked out all the time. I’ve got pics and if you’d like to just jump to them, then click HERE. Here comes the rant.
I’m still no less pissed off that he even has to deal with this. I’m not sure who to shake my fist at, other than The Man Upstairs. I’m still working this out in my head and not coming up with any good answers to it. I see plenty of other people having babies and they’re coming out perfectly fine. I understand, like I said previously on here, that it’s a blessing that this was the worst birth defect that he got but it doesn’t make it any easier to see him lying in the hospital bed in pain. It pisses me off. He shouldn’t have to deal with something of this enormity at this age. His birthday present was his own personal surgery from the hospital. ON HIS ONE YEAR BIRTHDAY. Thanks for that, Big Guy. Thanks for making sure that he’d have to deal with that bullshit on his FIRST BIRTHDAY. Thank goodness he had no clue that August 24th was different than any other day.
I hate to be one to gripe but my late sister had problems. Granted, they didn’t really become MY personal problems and I had no financial obligations to her wellbeing. I didn’t actually have to spend the time, as a parent, worrying about how she’d make it thru the next day. But I was there and I did worry. I loved her to death and if pained me badly when she passed away. I guess I just kinda figured that that would be it for major tribulations in my life. Guess not. The Man Upstairs decided that I needed another dose of shittiness. I’m not sure why he passed this on to my son but I’m having a hard time coming to terms with it all. It doesn’t make it any easier when many around me are having perfectly healthy babies with no ill effects. It’s like a slap in the face.
Back when this whole situation came up, The Wif had a much harder time dealing with it then I did. I told myself for the longest time that the ultrasound couldn’t have been able to tell something like a facial deformity. They’re wrong, I told myself. Nothing could take the shock away though, at the first ultrasound when they suspected something. The look on the nurse’s face when she said “uh, let me go get the doctor” with no explanation was horrible. The Wif cried in the waiting room for quite sometime. How the hell am I supposed to comfort her with that? Of course we knew that he’d be ok and it wouldn’t necessarily halt his growth. Of course we knew that he’d still be raised alright with us. Of course we knew that there were a lot worse things out there for babies. Of course we realized that we were in the US of A where the medical community would help us out along the way. But did that make it any easier to say, “Hey, jackpot! One chance in a thousand! We won! Woo hoo! What’s that you say, announcer? We win a birth defect? Hold on a sec!”
Looking at him on Wednesday afternoon, right after he’d been wheeled out of surgery and into his room, he looked so small. In that big bed (it was a child’s bed but it was still huge), he seemed so much smaller than usual. For those of you who have kids out there, do you remember the look on the face that precedes the cry? The quivering of the lip? The eyes getting a bit wet and glossy? That look was perpetually on his face until the morphine kicked in. Seeing him on the verge of tears but unable to cry because it hurt him, that hurt. Bad. I don’t think anyone caught me crying, but I did. Not geysers of water, but enough to alter my voice if I would have tried to talk. The Wif, on the other hand, did cry. And understandably so. It’s horrible seeing him like that. There’s nothing you can say to comfort those close to him either. Nothing that seems to make it better.
On the plus side though, last night we watched “The Lion King” and he really seemed to enjoy it. His smile is back, although not as full as it was, and it’s beautiful. He’s in a good mood. Feeding him thru a syringe is definitely not an easy task and it seems to be pretty unpleasant for him too. He can’t have solid foods right away so he’s on a liquid diet (formula seems to satiate his appetite though, if he’s got enough in him).
Congratulations for making it through my scattered rant. Here’s the pics I promised earlier.
Hungry before the surgery….We had to make him fast all day….We joined him in the fast for two reasons; one, so he wouldn’t see us eating and start hollering (he’s smart, that kid) and two, kind of a sign of solidarity
posted Fri, 08-26-05