Saturday, July 11, 2009

Dijon circumcision

I'm sure you pervs are all dying to know how Finn's wiener is doing, so I apologize for the lack of update.

It's fine. It requires regular application of antibacterial goo and it looks kind of freaky, but everything went as smoothly as we could hope. Here's how Tuesday went down...

7 AM: Wake up Finn and rush him out the door, right through the kitchen, since he wasn't allowed to eat anything prior to the surgery. This was a dicey move, since breakfast is the boy's big meal and he regularly devours 4 oxen and a field of oats. It's how he maintains his svelte figure.

7:30 AM: Check-in with the doctors at Swedish Medical Center. They were all very nice and Finn got to put on a fancy gown. The gown is clearly made for a teenager, but that just makes it more adorable (as you can see). In order to keep him distracted from his hunger while checking his vitals, they gave him a cool little fan that lights up. He promptly ripped it in half. We quickly ran back to the playroom before they noticed.

9 AM: Meet with the doctor, who is an incredibly nice guy and clearly very excited about his job. The first time we met with him, he drew an unsettlingly accurate representation of what he was going to do right on the paper covering the examination table - Ron Jeremy sized. He clearly loves "freeing the penis", as he put it, and was excited to do Finn's "fancy circumcision". You would think this would seem weird, but it didn't at all. There's no one else in the world that I would rather trust with Finn's wiener than Dr. Happypenis.

9:15 AM: Meet with the anesthesiologist who will be working with Finn. She warns us about the typical response to anesthesia - a rolling back of the eyes accompanied by flailing and crying. They tell us that 90% of parents - male and female - come out of the experience crying. Kitty and I begin to get a little freaked out and play rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to get traumatized the most by accompanying Finn to the back. Kitty "wins" and gets to go back, but not before donning a "beekeeper meets lunchlady" spacesuit.

9:17 AM: Kitty returns. Apparently Finn is awesome at falling asleep under anesthesia. The doctors are amazed. We begin praying that he wakes up just as awesomely.

10:15 AM: The doctor comes and finds us in the waiting room and tells us that everything went well. We both exhale audibly. Finn's penis is now free of its tether. The doctor likens it to sun rays beaming down from the heavens and the angels singing. Seriously. Dr. Happypenis is very pleased, as are we. We begin waiting for Finn to wake up.

10:20 AM: He wakes up, but he is not awesome. It's all we can do to hold onto him as he squirms and cries hysterically with an IV in his hand and a monitor attached to his foot. He guzzles two bottles of sugar water and is not sated. Over the nurses' objections, we begin shoveling applesauce into his face. That slows him down enough for us to move him to the recovery room. We know our boy.

10:30 AM: We shovel more applesauce into his face. He is now settling down.

10:40 AM: He falls asleep on my shoulder. It's the best feeling in the world. Kitty looks longingly at me, her eyes begging me to hold him. I pretend I don't see her.

11:20 AM: We receive instruction regarding post-surgery care, including penis goo and codeine application directions, and are discharged along with a little teddy bear wearing a doctor's uniform. I'm not really sure how comforting that particular brand of teddy bear is, but Finn gives it his seal of approval: he puts his head on it, holds it for 5 seconds then throws it to the ground.

11:45 AM: We return home and give Finn his first dose of codeine. It's hilarious, proving the age-old adage: drugged up kids are funny. With the painkillers flowing through his veins, the boy immediately returns to normal, pointing out all of the wa-wa's (flowers) and caws (cars).

Three days in, he's off the codeine and back to his normal manic self. His wiener still looks a little raw, but I'll spare you those pictures. I'm sure I've already done enough psychological damage to his teenage self by transcribing this little adventure.

Plus, this isn't that kind of blog.


Tick Tour postscript: turns out we weren't entirely unsuccessful in acquiring Lyme. G'ma Parker did indeed pick up a tick and is now on antibiotics. Victory!

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