Snagle-toothed No More

Is it possible to be MORE pathetic? You be the judge.

OK, Feel Sorry!

Got up at 4:30 AM again this Tue. morning, but it didn't hurt quite as bad because I "knew" we were going to get Ben's braces/cast off and have his stitches removed. To top it off, my parents had "big-boy-sat" again and were bringing them down to Charlottesville (where the hospital is) to meet us that afternoon to celebrate my wife's birthday. I might even get to eat at my favorite restaurant (Melting Pot).

Ye ... as dear old mom always said; "Wish in one hand and ...." (you get the idea). Well, we got the "other hand"!

First, the hand specialist who had done the original surgery was out of town, so he asked a colleague to "over see" (my words) stuff today and left his "competent, but lost" attending/fellow in charge, apparently--though she again didn't seem to have real "control" of anything yet. We asked to first try and remove the bandages and stitches without anesthesia (yes, they wanted to "put him under" to do this). This is a tough kid who besides being the youngest of 3 boys, has been genuinely interested in the process of caring for his injury, so is able to sit very still and seems to have a fairly high pain threshold. At first this seemed like a completely foreign idea, but as they allowed themselves (there seemed to be another attending/fellow that carried weight in decision making along for the ride) to think outside the box they realized that this would be easier on them--two extra hands, those of a trusted parent ... DUH! But unfortunately, the old routine kicked in and they claimed the need to be in the operating room where they had everything in case of an emergency--he needed pain meds. HELLO! He is a tough kid and a little discomfort is not going to kill him and if it starts to ... he has his mommy right there. Besides, what is it, like a 20 second walk around the corner to the OR? Many chefs ruin the stew! (Teaching hospital = 2 attending/resident/fellow surgeons, 3 anesthesiologists, 2+ nurses, and apparently somewhere a chief plastic surgeon--but we never saw nor heard from him)

Anyway, what was suppose to be a 15 minute thing, took about an hour, though they didn't end up intubating or giving him any pain meds ... AH, what did I tell you?!?!?!?

There was good news ... No more cast on his foot, yay! But we do now just have exposed stitches. Ye, a 2 year old is going to leave those alone for sure!

AND ... apparently, once a magician, always a magician. He was delivered back to us with both arms once again tied across his chest! When the "competent, but lost" attending/fellow told me she had strapped him up, I said, "That's not good!" To which she replied, "Why?" UHM, he is 2 freakin' years old and as already had his arms tied across his chest for a week. Have you ever had your arms tied across your chest for a week ... what about for 17 days?!?!?!?!

So in short, if you would like you may now begin to feel bad for Ben ... and us!

Uni-Ped

June 25, as the boys were dog-sitting for one of their uncle/aunt and awaiting the details of the unique birth circumstances of their newest cousin, they discovered their uncle's most awesome treadmill. While T & S took turns running up a sweat, Ben apparently discovered that the belt of the treadmill feels pretty cool as it LIGHTLY passes under your hand, and VERY HOT as it runs over your hands.

Somehow, he apparently got his hand caught under the treadmill belt--as one of his brothers was jogging. He began to scream at one incredible decibel level as his other brother started yelling to the first brother, "TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!" to the response, "I'm trying." Realizing what had happened, I opted for "pulling" Ben's hands out, rather than trying to help the first brother figure out how to stop the machine. Despite the gruesome potential, there was nearly no blood due to what we later discovered was second and third degree burns to 7 or his 8 fingers. Luckily, the worse burns were on his right hand--he tends to favor his left.
(Warning: picture below)


We immediately called our ER doctor--who for some un-explainable reason had taking off from Maryland in an apparent attempt to deliver his second son on the New Jersey Turnpike. He told us that if we were to take the boy to the ER, they would likely just wrap up his hands and tell us to take him to his pediatrician after the weekend. So we (my wife) scavenged the car safety kit, found some anti-bacterial ointment with lidocaine, gauze wrap and bandaged him up as the big boys and I went to CVS to buy some children's Tylenol and more lidocaine ointment. We later returned looking for something to splint the fingers, but could only find actual Popsicles on the stick--turns out Ben preferred those anyway.


As sad and painful as this experience sounds, you need not feel too much pity for the poor child, who only needed "pain medicine" immediately following the accident. He is QUITE proud of his little mitts! He likes to show them off to everyone and anyone that will "listen" to him proudly "chirp" about them.


After visiting our ER doctor (new cousin/nephew) in New Jersey, we took his advice and returned home with Ben on Sunday evening and took Ben into the pediatrician first thing Mon. morning. Their response was that there didn't look like there was any infection, but that they would like him to see a hand specialist at UVA hospital in Charlottesville (about 45 minutes away), which they were able to set up for that afternoon. NOTE TO DOCTORS: When visiting with a parent and/or child after a traumatic experience, it is best to say more than; "Oh dear!" and walk out of the room! Yes, after taking off the bandages at the hand specialist office, that is exactly what happened. He did then return with I believe at least a resident and a few students (teaching hospital). Again, not comforting. The diagnosis; skin grafts on up to 8 fingers--to be taken from his feet--but the surgery couldn't be done in the next week, so we'd have to come back a week from Tue. So, they re-wrapped his hands (which he had undone in less then 15 minutes) and sent him home.

Have I mentioned that these two weeks were to be spent with his aunt, uncle & cousin on "furlough" from Africa and new cousin on "furlough" from New Jersey?

After VBS was completed on Thur. we all returned to Maryland for the weekend before we had to pack Ben up and head back down to check Ben into the hospital at 6AM for his surgery on Tue morning--which was made much easier by PopPop and GiGi "big-boy-sitting."

Within 5 minutes of checking in, they had a volunteer escort us all up to a room where Ben would get ready for his surgery. We meet 2 different nurses (both very pleasant), an attending doctor (though very competent, seemed a little lost), the resident anesthesiologist (talked kind of fast, but was very good), along with at least one intern/student for each before the chief plastic surgeon and head pediatric anesthesiologist stopped by (one with their car keys still in their hand). After some Verset, Ben was taken off to what we were told would probably be a 1.5 hr. surgery. We were able to track the progress of the surgery on a digital board in the waiting room and he was out in less then 61 minutes. The second nurse called down to let us know the good and bad news. Good: they only had to graft on 2 fingers. Bad: it was one finger on each hand. So, in the doctors words Ben would be "Houdini-ed" (ie. arms tied across his chest), he would at least have one foot "free" (was able to get both grafts from one foot, which then had to be splinted to keep the stitches from popping).

Recovery was not quite as quick. Apparently they had felt he was having some difficulty breathing and so they intubated him (put a breathing tube down his throat, but removed before he woke up) which upon waking up appeared to be slightly less disturbing for Ben than discovering he no longer had use of his arms. Although visibly annoying, he has begun to figure out how to use his one free foot to; point, pet his new cousin's head, pick up and even nearly put things in his mouth. So again, you don't need to feel too sorry for him.




We are ALL looking forward to having the cast/splints & stitches removed on Tue. morning!

No Gamma No

My youngest is a quarter of the way through his 3rd year, yet still doesn't speak a language that is understandable to anyone other than himself. Now I am not saying that he has problems communicating, he definitely does not. He may not be able (or willing) to audibly tell you what he wants from you in a language you understand, but he has absolutely no difficulty pushing, pulling, dragging, pointing and screeching his wishes to you. This is an issue that while it doesn't necessarily worry me (I believe I have mentioned in a past post that his aunt didn't speak intelligible sentences until she was in like junior high), but it does frustrate the snot out of me.

Well, about a week ago he when with his mother to an out of town meeting and stayed with his gamma for two days. Apparently, she decided it was time for him to learn to talk and taught him to say the ever so useful work..."NO". Thanks gamma. Wasn't there any other word you could have taught him; "mom," "dad," "brother," ... "YES"? The one consolation I have taken in his not speaking a language I understand was that he at least was not going around saying the one word that all parents associate with the "terrible twos"... "no, No, NO!"

However, I have to say that this has seemed to jump start an ever so slight effort on his part to communicate in a language the rest of the family speaks. Since returning from Gamma's, he has added to his "No" words that sound like attempts to say "up," "light," "milk," a clearer version of "more," and "booger" which we--his oldest brother and I--are trying to get him to call his next oldest brother. Sadly, he tonight uttered something that was awful close to that brother's actually name.

So, I suppose that I will have to remove the afore mentioned sarcasm toward my mother-n-law and actually say, "Thank you, Gamma!"

New Nephew

Here is to my nephew, Zeke. Though we never met, nor even knew the other existed in the 18 days we were related, nonetheless I sense a void in my life that I cannot wait to be filled in eternity.

For Zeke's story, go to www.missionarydoctors.blogspot.com

Happy Ending to Kind of Bummer of a Week

This last week was kind of a bummer. If it had been just about any other year, I would have been with all my in-laws skiing Winter Park, CO. But noooooo. My 'hotshot' brother-n-law had to go move to Tchad, Africa--the fourth most failed nation on the globe--(with his pregnant wife and 2 yr. old son) to write witty blog post and be a missionary (http://www.missionarydoctors.blogspot.com/)! (I guess the fact that the my wife and boys don't get Spring Break for anther two weeks also may have contributed a little as well.)

But really, that is not what bummed me out so badly. I really do love my wife's brother, he definately is one of my top-3 favorite brother-n-laws. What really bummed me out most was that for eight years, my wife and I have been able to avoid having to throw a birthday party for our oldest son who has, with one exception, celebrated every birthday in Colorado with my in-laws. It probably wouldn't have been an issue, if it wasn't for super social son #2 goating his big brother into trying to have as large a party as possible.

Having resigned to the inevidable evil that is a birthday party, we set out to secure a two hour session at the local bowling alley with pizza and soda for a small gathering of 5 boys. Then our eldest son shared his list of intended invitees for his birthday party including pre-k students through junior highers, vertually the entire school--including his teacher. I suppose the one kind of positive element here is that he didn't want to do anything for his birthday but to play a big game of football. Did I mention this discussion took place the Thursday before his birthday? After confirming that he understood to have more people and have them at the house meant that the entire place needed to be cleaned better than it had even been before--probably on Sunday morning, I agreed to increase the invite list.

Truth be told, once the decision was finally made, I started to get a little excite--about how much cheaper it will be to play football rather than a 'pay for party'--and potentional "cakes" ideas. When I was about the same age as my oldest son, I too was a huge football fan and my mom made me the coolest football field cake frosted with green coconut to look like grass. But I was challenged by not being able to find small football figures anywhere and was using cupcakes. The challenge of not being able to recreate my mother's master piece cake, inspired me to create my own master piece--an "wreath cookie" cake (similar to a rice crispy treat, but made with corn flakes). The kids may not have been impressed, but I sure was!

My biggest fear was the devistation that my son was going to have when the reality that "the big kids" don't want to hang out at a nine-year-olds birthday party. My secondary worry was the weekend weather forecast that was calling for a high of 51 degrees (albeit acceptable football weather) and likelihood of rain most of the weekend.

Well, Sunday morning came and we only had one phone confirmation--which the birthday boy took, but couldn't remember who it was or how many people it might have been confirming would be coming. (my wife had gotten verbal confirmation from several of the parents of the most necessary friends.) I remembered the 7th birthday party of my niece & nephew and the awesome football jersey "my son" (than 3 yrs. old) made along with all the other party attenders. So I rushed out to Walmart to pick up some tee-shirts to be able to do the same thing, but forgot to ask my wife how many kids we were expecting or what sizes they were likely to be...medium should be average.

I returned just in time for the 2 year old to go down for a nap as kids started to arrive--what idiot would schedule a birthday party during little brother's nap time? I plead the 5th. First kid there was one of the "big kids" from the upper grades classroom. As was the second and third--technically, they were choosing to join this birthday party with their brother & sister who are in my boys class instead of the kindergarten party their littlest sister was going to at the same time(yes, 5 siblings and their mother is pregnant with twins!). When all arrived we had 10 boys and 2 girls. After everyone had made a "jerseys" we headed down to "the field" for what turned into an hour fifteen minute game, where the birthday boys smaller team ended up winning 28-14 on the strength of 3 turnovers. The game was cut short after the third near concussion and the overwhelming desire for pizza.

Fun was had by all (ok, most), a 2 hour party turned into 4 plus and despite requesting no gifts the birthday boy cleaned up (that is very figurative--Mr. Mom had to Clean Up!). Oh, and did I forget to mention that the rainy, 51 degree day turned out to be a sunny 70 degrees?

Dirty Rats!

As I mentioned in my last post, PopPop & GiGi added 2 "precious" little rats to our home for Christmas this past year. The previously un-named vermin have officially been dubbed; Fright (on the left, because she seems to be scared of everything) & Dora (on the right, because she LOVES to explore).

Though they have only been a part of our home for just over a month now, the boys are still willing to "clean" the cage each day and play with the "girls". In fact, the most interested in the "ratties" is Ben. He loves to stick his chubby little fingers in the cage (which Fright loves to ... taste) and he has become a pro at putting their food in their bowl. He however, does NOT like the feel of their little claws on his skin and will not tolerate them climbing on him. Toby & Seth have discovered that Dora & Fright enjoy hooded sweatshirts, so that is often the standard "cleaning" attire so that have a place to hang out til the cage is ready.

Dora got her name due to her numerous expeditions during the afore mentioned cleaning sessions. Though she wants to check everything out and moves quickly from one side of the room to the other, she is very happy to be "caught". Fright on the other hand will dart out and back in to the cage, always seeming to be measuring the distance and time it would take her to return to the safety of home. However, she has discovered one place she is likes almost as much as the cage...the dresser drawers. She will run under the dresser and climb into the bottom drawer, when you open it to find her she climbs up into the next and the next and then back down. It is nearly impossible to find and catch her (which she really does not like) once she gets in there.

Dora & Fright live on the dresser in Toby & Seth's room, near a rather poorly insulated window. So, being the animal lover that I am (not wanting to deal with 3 young men when they awoke to find a rat-sicle), I sacrificed an older towel to the cause to hopefully provide a little extra wind-breaker over the cage. Though I do not understand it, it came as no surprise when I noticed the ends of the towel had been pulled inside the cage and shredded. However, what was quite ... upsetting, was when I was doing laundry and noticed what they had done to the sleeves on one of the boys shirts--a favorite hand-me-down from BIG cousin J. Patrick.

I was furious. If those dirty rats had been bigger, I would have tried to figure out a way to make coats out of them. Then I thought about my boys letting the rats roam their room and even encouraging them to "hide" in the dresser drawers--which they have been explicitly told not to allow to happen. This thought only made it worse. I had to calm myself down by saying things like; "They're just dumb animals. What did I expect from them? I knew this was what they do."

BUT, I TOTALLY LOST IT! when I caught one of those dirty rats gnawing on the sleeves right in front of me.