Mr. Dixon
Mr. Dixon was in surgery for two hours, and came through fine. The surgeon's report was complete with laparoscopic visual aids (so that's what a(nother) testicle looks like!). The outer visual aids are unsavory, to say the least.
It's amazing the difference three months make. Jeff and I had it in our heads that it had been 8 weeks since the first surgery, but I realized last night that it's been a full three months. The first time, at 7 1/2 months old, Dixon was perfectly content to be toted off by a stranger, and he was happy and perky by late afternoon on the day of surgery. This time, he had to be pre-sedated before he'd leave my arms, and slept the whole day and most of the night, waking with screams when he finally started to be able to pee again. He's obviously in more pain this time than before, but considering the surgeon also repaired a botched circ, this is hardly surprising. I'm beating myself up for allowing the boys to be circ'd in the first place, and the fact that the doctor botched Dixon's makes me furious.
As for recovery, Dixon slept all night, but I barely slept a wink. We were stuck in a room with someone else (a quiet 4 month old and his all-night tv-watching 17 year-old mom) and I just can't sleep under those conditions. Fortunately, Dixon didn't have that problem. I don't want to sound bitter or judgemental about the teen mom. I feel terrible for her, because although she is clearly a loving mom and has the support of her own mother, she is totally unprepared to understand or manage her baby's condition. Poor kid(s).
By morning, Dixon was his old self again, giggling and obsessed with me, but also tired and easily moved to grumpiness. He was eating poorly until they finally took him off the IV drip.
We had a rough night at home last night (and boy am I feeling it!), and he took a very long and very early nap this morning. When he's awake, he's pretty much ok. Cruising and crawling and playing the comedian as usual. It's when he soils his diaper that he becomes cranky, and that's perfectly understandable.
Next Thursday, we visit the surgeon to have the Big Cotton Tether and Stitch removed, and find out what sort of follow-up routine is required.
I'm glad this is over with, and I hope Dixon has no memory of it. I'll live with the guilt forever, as is my maternal duty.
It's amazing the difference three months make. Jeff and I had it in our heads that it had been 8 weeks since the first surgery, but I realized last night that it's been a full three months. The first time, at 7 1/2 months old, Dixon was perfectly content to be toted off by a stranger, and he was happy and perky by late afternoon on the day of surgery. This time, he had to be pre-sedated before he'd leave my arms, and slept the whole day and most of the night, waking with screams when he finally started to be able to pee again. He's obviously in more pain this time than before, but considering the surgeon also repaired a botched circ, this is hardly surprising. I'm beating myself up for allowing the boys to be circ'd in the first place, and the fact that the doctor botched Dixon's makes me furious.
As for recovery, Dixon slept all night, but I barely slept a wink. We were stuck in a room with someone else (a quiet 4 month old and his all-night tv-watching 17 year-old mom) and I just can't sleep under those conditions. Fortunately, Dixon didn't have that problem. I don't want to sound bitter or judgemental about the teen mom. I feel terrible for her, because although she is clearly a loving mom and has the support of her own mother, she is totally unprepared to understand or manage her baby's condition. Poor kid(s).
By morning, Dixon was his old self again, giggling and obsessed with me, but also tired and easily moved to grumpiness. He was eating poorly until they finally took him off the IV drip.
We had a rough night at home last night (and boy am I feeling it!), and he took a very long and very early nap this morning. When he's awake, he's pretty much ok. Cruising and crawling and playing the comedian as usual. It's when he soils his diaper that he becomes cranky, and that's perfectly understandable.
Next Thursday, we visit the surgeon to have the Big Cotton Tether and Stitch removed, and find out what sort of follow-up routine is required.
I'm glad this is over with, and I hope Dixon has no memory of it. I'll live with the guilt forever, as is my maternal duty.