A lot to catch up on since my last (and first) post. I think I’ll start with our most recent highlight: hernia surgery and an overnight stay at the Children’s Hospital.
A few weeks ago, we went to Jackson’s pediatrician for his first set of shots. We were expecting a pretty routine appointment, followed by 24-48 hours of endless crying and moaning (because that’s what we heard was coming). Much to our chagrin, however, we got all that and more.
Apparently Jackson had two hernias develop from birth – both of which were side effects of his early arrival. One was on his belly button, and the other, more serious hernia was inguinal, basically in his groin. (SOMETHING I LEARNED: Inguinal hernias occur when the hole in the abdominal wall from which the balls descend doesn’t close as it should. The intestine eventually loops out of that hole and brings with it the risk of “strangulation,” which apparently is bad for the bowels.)
When the doc told us surgery would be required, my first question was whether or not the procedure would require general anesthesia, a.k.a. night-night. It turns out that it did, which was the shittiest part of the whole situation. Hernia surgery is quite routine, but anesthesia introduces more risks, especially with infants. I was naturally upset by the diagnosis, but there wasn’t much we could do.
The consult with Doctor Jen Bruny the next day put a lot of our worries to rest. Not only because of the words she said, but because of our surroundings at the Children’s Hospital. This is a special place, and I’ll tell you why. My wife Hailey has been a nurse the Children’s Hospital since we were married (so roughly 2-4 years), and whenever her vocation comes up in conversation, she always hears the same thing: “that must be so hard.” Well that’s accurate, but not in the way that the tone of the statement insinuates. Hailey will be the first to admit that it’s hard to see a patient struggle, especially a child, but she would never work for another institution because of the resiliency of these children. They don’t become depressed when faced with difficult medical news. In fact, they’re often the rock for the family during hard situations. And I don’t think it’s because they lack understanding, I just think kids have slicker backs and a better ability to see the bright-side of things. All over the hospital there are kids with horrible diagnoses, but they’re still smiling. This was eye-opening for two reasons: 1) I finally got to see in person what Hailey is always talking about when it comes to her patients, and 2) it put Jackson’s hernia in so much perspective, that I almost felt bad about bitching about it the day before. Speaking of the hernia…
On the day of the surgery, we had to be back at Children’s by 6:30am, a time of day that was foreign to me just three months prior, but quite familiar these days. The check-in process was pretty smooth, and they took Jackson back within about two hours. 30 mintues into the procedure, we received news that he was taking well to the anesthesia, and everything was going to plan. An hour later, the surgery was complete, and five minutes after that he had a mouth full of titty.
So what started out as a crisis of a situation (surgery for our infant!) turned out to be pretty simple. We stayed the night at the hospital for monitoring, but there was a “Hoarders” marathon on so it was basically an extended weekend. I think the “SOMETHING I LEARNED” for this whole ordeal was to always keep things in perspective, and before you start bitching about how hard something is, realize that somewhere there’s a four-year-old kid who makes you look like a pussy.
Premature Dad 