The Training Phase...

He's training me...not me training him.

BK3 watching Cartoons Pre-Op

Many of you know about BK3's "bump" on his back.  It's a Cavernous Hemangioma.  Basically, it looks like a reddish/blue mass of spongy tissue just under his neck, between his two shoulder blades.  His pediatrician says it's completely harmless, as long as it's not connected to his spine.  It appeared just after 1 month of life.  About the size of a penny, and a tiny bit raised.  Now, it's the size of a plum, and it protrudes about 3/4 inch from his body.  They say it will just grow, and grow, then once it's finished, will begin to slowly shrink until it's not noticeable.  I made the mistake of looking online at pictures, and saw them as big as cantaloupes.  The one thing I continue to tell myself is at least it's on his back...and not so "in the way". Plus, things could always be worse.  His MRI was scheduled for this week to take a look.  1 - to see if it was attached to the spine and 2 - to see if he had anymore in there that we didn't know about.  I wasn't worried, until they told me he had to be put to sleep for the procedure.  OK...so my baby gets anesthesia.  Whoa.  Suit up mama, this one's gonna be a toughy.  So Wednesday morning was the big day.  We arrived at the General at 6:00 a.m. (side note-me and the baby Teen don't wake up til 8 a.m. most days) but it's not like I slept anyways.  I was petrified.  Punkin was a trouper, he sat in pre-op for 2 hours and watched cartoons, despite being just about starved not having a bottle since the night before.  I really thought anesthesia would get things moving sooner, but again - let's not be a pushy mama.  They got to the part where they come in, wheel us all to the floor with the MRI imaging, then they look at me and Daddy B and say "OK this is where we take him, and you sit".  me:  OK Carrie, smile, and walk away.  This is the part where things have to take place as they do.  Life happens.  Don't be one of those basket-case mamas.  ..... and boy did it work!  I was able to sit, for an hour, and I didn't sweat too badly, or bite my nails.  Just prayed.  A LOT.  BK3 was a champ, he woke up before they got him to recovery, as I heard him screaming while I sat outside the MRI room.  He didn't sound happy.  The techs were "nice" enough to wheel him out, screaming, say "Hey mom and dad we're through, follow us" then move so fast we couldn't really get to BK3 to comfort him...and THEN dump us in the waiting area while he went to recovery alone.  still screaming.  Still can't figure that process out.  We sat in the waiting for 5 minutes, until they called us to come back to be with him....he was still screaming.  Pissed.  Hungry.  Confused.  Poor Punkin.  As I got him to gulp down a bottle and calm down with a wubby, I gave in a promised him 3 more christmas presents.  I mean, he had earned it right?

He woke up from Anesthesia a little congested, but the nurse told us it was quite normal.  He'd lose that throughout the day.  Cool.  I was ready to go.  Not long after, we were discharged, went home and that takes us to part 2 of a 3 part "mommy training" session.

Boss & BK3

Jump to Boss.  Our 92 pound hugely scary, yet capable of no harm what-so-ever Doberman Pincher.  A little over 6 months ago, we went through the long discussion of whether or not to get Boss fixed.  I recall the week very vividly.  I was a VERY pregnant on-the-warpath wife who was nervous about Boss's excited behavior around the newborn.  Daddy B was also thinking about it.  And there were a few other reasons we thought we may want to have ole' Boss fixed.  One was the risk of Cancer in the male parts.  Another was the fact that Boss has ONE dominant trait in that sweet body of his:  He tends to find the weakest male dog at the dog park...and own him.  I'll leave it at that.  And no, I don't mean fight him.  Brannan told me it was up to me to take Boss to Dr. Welch and have a lengthy discussion with him about Boss's fate.  Despite having Boss's surgery scheduled that day, my orders as Boss's "Mom" was to insist on speaking with the Vet before sending Boss to his manhood doom.  I did as I was told.  And had a lengthy talk with Dr Welch about everything Boss-related.  At the end of the convo, I was under the impression that Boss was a sweet dog.  His one dominant trait wouldn't be fixed by "Fixing" since it was already in his demeanor.  And the cancer risk...well it's so low that putting him under would be another just-as-scary risk.  SO....mama decided to let Boss keep his boys.  And this very prego lady walked Boss out the office, put him back in my car, which he had already painted the inside with his dog-hair and told him "You're Welcome".  Daddy B was relieved and here we are.  We notice blood is sprinkling in places near the Dog's room.  Can't figure out who's bleeding.  Finally, I'm holding the baby and keeping Roxie by my side and tell Brannan to play with Boss....hoping the blood would show up.  It did, but we still couldn't figure out where from.  Brannan grabbed a paper towel and let's just say we figured it out...it was coming from his man-part.  Whoa.
Wednesday afternoon, following BK3's MRI, Brannan took Boss to the vet.  OK.  Let's just say after $450 and a gazillion amount of tests run, Boss has an enlarged Man-organ and the suggestion from the vet you ask?  "If you get him fixed, this problem will go away".  Hmm.  Gee.  Really?  Let's add that $180.  Merry Christmas Boss.  Hope you like GIVING your boys away for the Holiday. 

I'm tired. He's having fun.

I went to work Wednesday night and came home to a "sore" Boss, still congested BK3 and a Daddy B who was ready to not be Daddy for the night.  I rocked my tiny tot to bed and put him down for around 10:00 p.m.  I was exhausted, but oh was the fun about to begin.  11:45 p.m.  BK3 wakes up with the haunting wheeze that I had heard just a month before.  I thought I was dreaming.  PLEASE no more hospitals.  I tried everything to get him breathing better.  Finally called the nurse, who heard him wheezing from the phone.  She said to bring him in.  Off I go.  This time alone - I told BK2 not to come....I was getting this shit done now.  So I'm driving 80, praying the whole way.  Get BK3 to the General, for the second time that day.  Triage nurse sees he's wheezing.  And quickly assures me that I'm not crazy.  But guess what, by the time the Dr gets into the patient room....BK3 decides, he can breathe now.  No more wheezing.  YOU'RE KIDDING ME.  The nurse vouched for us but the Dr said it could've just been phlegm from anesthesia, and hitting the cold air helped him clear it up.  So 2:00 a.m., and we head home.  Only for him to start wheezing again....and me to sit up the rest of the entire night and just stare, making sure he's alive ya know?  It's at that moment that I go...wow.  I didn't dive into this mommy hood.  I freaking did a cannonball from the top diving board. I have a 92 pound Dobie bleeding out his pee pee, a 6 month old who likes midnight field trips to the ER, and I'm quickly learning that sleep means absolutely nada.  I'm ok though.  Again...God doesn't give you anything you cannot handle, or laugh about.  I'm still banking on the fact that Boss and BK3 instigated this whole deal together...to see how far they could push me.  And I'm sure it won't be the first time.  It's only the beginning, so buckle up tighter mama.  This toughy ain't nothin'.  The fun has only begun!