A Non-FX-related Day

In the on-going saga of Nothing About These Pregnancies Went Right Theater, we took Henry in for his circumcision procedure today.  The procedure itself went well, and he's now upstairs in his crib, falling slowly asleep while playing with his stuffed monkey and watching his "TV" -- an electronic mobile of fish.

So why now, at 11 months old?  Again, another chapter in the "Nothing Went Right" novel.

When he was born, the delivering OB was leery to the point of adamant refusal to perform the circumcision because she noticed that he had an odd twist to his equipment.  A day or two later, the resident urologist came to check him out and noted that Henry had chordee but that it wasn't a severe case and that they could have done the circ.

Unfortunately, in this age of hypersensitive liability fear and medical malpractice suits, nobody wanted to touch the boy.  And since we were past the window of opportunity, by the time anyone was able to confidently state that Henry was not a mutant, we had to wait until he was 6 months old to perform the circ, because by then, they'd have had to put him under general anesthesia.

So from December to now, it has become nothing but a tragedy of errors.  After our initial consult with a non-terrified urologist, we scheduled his procedure for early March.  Then Henry got sick a week before, so we had to reschedule to April.

Then, three weeks before the rescheduled procedure, we got a call from the urology office that they needed to schedule a new consultation because the doctor who was going to perform the operation decided that he was going to leave the practice and move to Florida.

So then we had to meet with a new doctor and go through the same evaluation again (and pay for it again).  This time, the procedure was scheduled for early May.

And Henry got sick again a week before the operation date.  Reschedule for the third time.

Finally, this week arrived.  And wouldn't you know it, he started getting the sniffles last night.  I was about at the end of my rope.

We toughed it out overnight and at this point, I decided that if the doctor and the hospital wanted to reject us because Henry was sniffling, I'd make it their responsibility.  I'm not canceling anymore.  Luckily, Henry's sinuses cleared up enough after he woke up this morning to go through with it all. 

Six hours later, we got home.  He's whacked out on the out-of-order schedule plus the sensory WTFing, so an hour and a half before his normal bedtime, he's in his crib with eyes heavy despite playing with his monkey.

One headache down and done.