Seventy-Six

Here’s something I wrote to a few friends yesterday.  I’ve been preoccupied and concerned about this matter for the past few weeks.  The message kind of explains itself.  If you haven’t heard from me for awhile, or if I haven’t seemed myself, this is a big part of why.
Today was a better.  House doesn’t need a new roof, and I’ll have help with the repairs tomorrow.
Seventy-Six wrote: “l klm k ;../4.”

I had a reply all written out, then had to hold the boy while his mother made him a bottle. I thought it would be fun to let him type on the keyboard, because that is often his greatest desire, and while he wrote nonsense like what you see above, he also managed to strike the sequence that closed the browser window and lost what I’d already written.

This time, I let him write something before I started writing.

We’ve got some more information. For brevity, I’ll cut and paste what I posted at Facebook. Yeah, I know. But my excuse is that many of my relatives spend time on Facebook…The damned wall text boxes only take a few dozen characters.

Christov wrote: “I just sent this to (emailed to younger brother and sister-in-law). What I left out of the message, because I forgot it while writing, is that the Small One will require surgery regardless of the radiological interpretation. Best case is day-surgery that will hopefully not leave a Franken-Baby scar, best-worst-case is neurosurgery and overnight stay that hopefully will not reduce our little monkey to simian intelligence.

This accursed text-box will not accept the entire pasted email message to which I alluded supra. It follows in the next text-box.

The doctor, an old guy who teaches at VUMC and communicates what sounds like sense, said it is most likely a dermoid cyst, and is located where these excrescences are most commonly found. VUMC has scheduled Seventy-Six for a head CT scan, I think they’re called, 31 October. He will have to be sedated in order to remain still for imaging. The scan should reveal whether the cyst extends through the suture line into the skull as a roughly dumb-bell shaped mass or is entirely outside the skull. It appears to be completely covered in bone, is fixed in its position, and is non-pulsile.

We returned home to find a puddle of water near the red tile between the fireplace and the dining area. New shingles, ceiling re-taped and painted, and chimney resealed again.

I so want to smash things.”

I’ve been pissed off all day. Angry with my wife, my house, my life. I expressed myself Godward with profanity. Do a google image search for “dermoid cyst” – they’re pretty disgusting. I have no idea how much the surgery will cost – insurance pays 80%. You know, like if I was a better man I would inhabit better circumstances.

If F-words were bombs Stepford would be a smoking, greasy black pit.

Tough Week

This is Caution-Lady’s first full week back at school. She’s got 20 kids in her class this year. Leaving Seventy-Six with sitters has been difficult for both of us.

Day before yesterday, I took him to his sitter’s house out in the country on my way to work. For the rest of the day, I thought about the way he looked at me as I left. Yesterday, the sitter came to our house, and the little guy reportedly screamed from the time my wife left the house until about 9:45, when she telephoned to my wife at school. Gas-drops solved his discomfort, as evidenced by two massive burps and a three-hour nap. Now my wife believes the sitter will no longer wish to keep our baby, and we’ll have to figure out some other arrangement. She was distraught last night, and said that while I was at a congregational business meeting, she phoned her sister-in-law, sobbing. By the time I returned home, the little guy was screaming again, but gas-drops then bottle seemed to relieve his distress.

Today, on my way to a rural county to the south, I’ll drop Seventy-Six off at my mom’s house.

It’s too late this school year to do anything about having Caution-Lady stay home with our son, but I’m thinking there may be some way to work it out for next year. Maybe pay off the house, save like mad people for the next year, and try to make it on my income. Dunno.

Little Nebuchadnezzar practices eating crinkly grass on his play-gym mat during some semi-fussy tummy time.  TZ quoted to me a source I don't recall who referred to infants as "Tyrants in Diapers."

Little Nebuchadnezzar practices eating crinkly grass on his baby gym mat during semi-fussy tummy time. My friend Doros refers to infants as "Tyrants in Diapers," quoting a source I cannot now recall.

Our new Sony digital video camera’s got a 60 gigabyte harddrive, but only snaps 1 mpx digital stills. Kind of lame, but Caution-Lady balked at the purchase of the $1200.00 model…