Under the Knife

Health insurance was made for babies like Griffin.  Not quite a year old and he has surpassed Owen's trips to the hospital and medical bills a few times over.  (And don't forget, Owen did "break his foot" when he was 12 months old, so he's not completely naive to the whole thing either.)

Last week, Griffin went under the knife.  I was going to spare you the details of why, but if you're like me curiosity would drive you nuts.  And I don't want anyone[else] going nuts.  So... my all-boy little "G" was born with an undescended testicle.  One nut.  Uni-ball.  Solo.  I know, it's not too glamorous, and he will be totally embarrassed in 15 years if he knew you knew, but that's it. 

After waiting 6 months for it to come down on its own, which obviously it didn't, a trip to the surgeon was next on the agenda.  (Getting that scheduled is another whole story.)  With no sight of it by exam or by ultrasound the planned operation was for exploration of his abdomen.  If they could find it they would do the first of a 2 or 3 part surgery to free up and lengthen the blood supply so in the future it could pulled back to where it belongs.  The other possibility was that it never developed properly in the first place, and they would just need to take it out so it wouldn't become a problem down the round.  I was convinced, for no particular reason, the latter was the case for Griffin.

The surgery was scheduled for two hours on May 29th.  I was thankful that the ball (no pun intended) was rolling, but of course I was nervous for the possible complications.  Of which, the complications I made up in my mind were much worse than what was realistic.  Enter Philippians 4:4-7.

The day came, and Griffin was blissfully unaware of what was awaiting him.  Jason and I planned for a long day starting with a morning with a cranky, fasting baby, an afternoon with nerves and a slow clock, and an evening with a groggy, uncomfortable boy.  After checking in and getting settled in the room, we headed down for an ultrasound.  It was going to be the same as the one he had a few months ago, and I figured the outcome would be the same too.  It seriously never crossed my mind that they would see what they saw.  They found it!  And it was already down near where it needed to be.

It didn't take long for the word to spread to our surgeon.  About the time we made it up from Radiology the Urology resident met us and the surgeon was not far behind.  Surgery plans had changed.  No exploratory surgery needed.  Instead they planned to do the final stage of the surgery: "orchiopexy" is the cool, official name along with a hernia repair.  In an unrelated event, our O.R. time had been moved up half an hour.

The rest of the day went just as smoothly.  They couldn't quite get it exactly where they wanted, but they anticipate it coming the rest of the way on it's own and doubt he'll need anymore surgery.  And not only did we not have to stay the night, we were out of there by 3:30.  Talk about answered prayers!

It has been just a few days, and he is back to his usual self.  If it weren't for some bruising and being unable to take a bath, go swimming, or "straddle" any toys (which, for whatever reason, Jason found really funny), you wouldn't even know he just had surgery.

Despite having a few health hurdles, we know they have been minor compared to what some parents go through.  We are so thankful to be blessed with healthy children who happen to have a few little quirks and blessed to have health insurance.