Thursday, January 29, 2009
i love my hometown
Monday, January 19, 2009
el nino sin tonsils
Is how I would say it in poor Spanish if I were to say it at all.
I am pleased, and secretly slightly pleasantly surprised that all went very well today. The Boy's surgery went off without a hitch, and I think also without a stitch, although neither The Wife or I are sure what exactly they do after they cut the blasted things out.
As a typical post-op precaution for a child such as The Boy, he is spending the night in the PICU (that's Pediatric Intensive Care Unit for those less medically acronym inclined). The Wife is with him tonight. When I left the hospital about 30 minutes ago she was changing into her jammies and preparing to snuggle up next to The Boy. He was all hopped up on codeine and sleeping relatively comfortably considering the surgery and the requisite post-op IV and gastrostomy feeding tubes and the wires connected to the monitoring machine that goes ping in the never ending twilight of the fishbowl hospital room.
The ENT doctor (that's ears, nose, and throat for the less medically acronym inclined) that performed the surgery mentioned the possibility that he may discharge The Boy tomorrow if all continues to go well. Given the usual odd by normal standards but not for The Boy things he will most likely do tonight, such as his occassional bradycardia, combined with moments of an extremely slow respiratory rate and seizure like behavior he generally exhibits when he is stressed by medical shit, The Wife and I remain optimistic if not hopeful that that will be the case.
[Ah, it will indeed be a miracle if I can watch the coronation, oops I mean inauguration, tomorrow from the comfort of my own living room.]
True to form, he has already been doing all of those things. Cause for concern, yes, and close attention but not alarm, at least not for us. We pray that the PICU staff remains calm and does not display a medical version of an itchy trigger finger.
So far, so good.
I came home to take care of our dachshound, the poor thing is a little freaked out after having been outside since we left for the hospital around 5:30.
As for me, well my dear reader, I am unwinding on the patio sucking down a mega tall-boy of the Steel ("If you're only gonna have one beer, make it a big strong one."), taking deep breaths and contemplating the long strange journey we've been on since our first real experience with The Boy in the hospital all those years ago.
He is my world. Plain and simple.
Soon, very soon, a shower and then off to bed. It's been a very long day. I will be back at the hospital by 6:00 in the morning.
We shall see what the morning will bring.
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I am pleased, and secretly slightly pleasantly surprised that all went very well today. The Boy's surgery went off without a hitch, and I think also without a stitch, although neither The Wife or I are sure what exactly they do after they cut the blasted things out.
As a typical post-op precaution for a child such as The Boy, he is spending the night in the PICU (that's Pediatric Intensive Care Unit for those less medically acronym inclined). The Wife is with him tonight. When I left the hospital about 30 minutes ago she was changing into her jammies and preparing to snuggle up next to The Boy. He was all hopped up on codeine and sleeping relatively comfortably considering the surgery and the requisite post-op IV and gastrostomy feeding tubes and the wires connected to the monitoring machine that goes ping in the never ending twilight of the fishbowl hospital room.
The ENT doctor (that's ears, nose, and throat for the less medically acronym inclined) that performed the surgery mentioned the possibility that he may discharge The Boy tomorrow if all continues to go well. Given the usual odd by normal standards but not for The Boy things he will most likely do tonight, such as his occassional bradycardia, combined with moments of an extremely slow respiratory rate and seizure like behavior he generally exhibits when he is stressed by medical shit, The Wife and I remain optimistic if not hopeful that that will be the case.
[Ah, it will indeed be a miracle if I can watch the coronation, oops I mean inauguration, tomorrow from the comfort of my own living room.]
True to form, he has already been doing all of those things. Cause for concern, yes, and close attention but not alarm, at least not for us. We pray that the PICU staff remains calm and does not display a medical version of an itchy trigger finger.
So far, so good.
I came home to take care of our dachshound, the poor thing is a little freaked out after having been outside since we left for the hospital around 5:30.
As for me, well my dear reader, I am unwinding on the patio sucking down a mega tall-boy of the Steel ("If you're only gonna have one beer, make it a big strong one."), taking deep breaths and contemplating the long strange journey we've been on since our first real experience with The Boy in the hospital all those years ago.
He is my world. Plain and simple.
Soon, very soon, a shower and then off to bed. It's been a very long day. I will be back at the hospital by 6:00 in the morning.
We shall see what the morning will bring.
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Sunday, January 18, 2009
update
Okay, so it's been a while since my words have graced this humble screen. Yes, my dear reader, it has been much too long since I sat forth and ranted about the topics of the day.
Why?
Well, James McMurtry is right, it's just life.
Just life, yeah, but to be totally honest my leisure pursuits have been somewhat dominated by that blasted game I avoided like the Plague for years. If you ever come across an Elf hunter named Sprydl just smile and say "Hey man, did you bring the Noyz?" and I'll know it's you.
That and as I previously mentioned I've discovered Guitar Hero. The upside of that is that it has lead me to also spend more time playing the real thing.
As a non-sequitor. . .
Today is the year anniversary of the day my dog died.
For whatever that's worth.
Anyways. . .
As The Wife and The Boy blissfully visit the land of slumber I sit outside, listening to Rush on Pandora with a cold Lone Star and a generous pour of Wild Turkey, reminding myself that Freud was right and it's just a cigar as I suck the tip of a smouldering Macanudo.
It ain't exactly living the high life, but it'll do.
In news of The Boy:
He continues to be an amazing creature. He is the axis upon which my world revolves. Doubtless, my dear reader, you enjoyed the photos of Christmas morning I posted a few weeks hence. Seven years old, around 50 pounds and a couple of inches over 4 feet tall. Or would be tall, if he could stand.
He will celebrate MLK's birthday on Monday by having his tonsils and adenoids removed. My stomach churns with anxiety just to type those words. The Wife and I are gearing up for a several days hospital stay. The doc told us to plan on at least two nights. I remain optimistic that the doc is correct, but things tend to not be so simple when it comes to The Boy and hospital visits.
So wish The Boy well, my dear reader, and please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers over the next few days. I promise to post updates as time permits.
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Why?
Well, James McMurtry is right, it's just life.
Just life, yeah, but to be totally honest my leisure pursuits have been somewhat dominated by that blasted game I avoided like the Plague for years. If you ever come across an Elf hunter named Sprydl just smile and say "Hey man, did you bring the Noyz?" and I'll know it's you.
That and as I previously mentioned I've discovered Guitar Hero. The upside of that is that it has lead me to also spend more time playing the real thing.
As a non-sequitor. . .
Today is the year anniversary of the day my dog died.
For whatever that's worth.
Anyways. . .
As The Wife and The Boy blissfully visit the land of slumber I sit outside, listening to Rush on Pandora with a cold Lone Star and a generous pour of Wild Turkey, reminding myself that Freud was right and it's just a cigar as I suck the tip of a smouldering Macanudo.
It ain't exactly living the high life, but it'll do.
In news of The Boy:
He continues to be an amazing creature. He is the axis upon which my world revolves. Doubtless, my dear reader, you enjoyed the photos of Christmas morning I posted a few weeks hence. Seven years old, around 50 pounds and a couple of inches over 4 feet tall. Or would be tall, if he could stand.
He will celebrate MLK's birthday on Monday by having his tonsils and adenoids removed. My stomach churns with anxiety just to type those words. The Wife and I are gearing up for a several days hospital stay. The doc told us to plan on at least two nights. I remain optimistic that the doc is correct, but things tend to not be so simple when it comes to The Boy and hospital visits.
So wish The Boy well, my dear reader, and please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers over the next few days. I promise to post updates as time permits.
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