A Quick Update on Max…

He didn’t have to have the surgery.

I can’t even begin to tell you how relieved I am. I mean, I’m going to TRY, obviously, because I’m me, and I’m wordy, but well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have been remotely surprised if I’d woken up this morning and discovered my hair had turned completely grey from worry – a bit like Leland Palmer in Twin Peaks, only without all the weird stuff, and the people-talking-backwards, and so on.

Obviously, in retrospect, it seems totally crazy to have been so worried about something that didn’t even happen, but I guess that’s parenthood for you, isn’t it? I remember when I was pregnant with Max, I used to worry that, once he was born, I’d love him so much that it would actually kill me, and you know what? I think it probably will one day. But I digress!

So, yesterday morning we took Max to the Royal Hospital for Sick Children in Edinburgh, where he was seen by two different doctors, both from the plastics team. and both of whom agreed that there wasn’t much point in putting him through surgery, as they didn’t think it would make much difference to the outcome. As I said in yesterday’s post, he will be left with a scar regardless, so the proposed surgery was purely to be an attempt to minimise that. Once the swelling had gone down, though, and the doctor was able to take another look, he didn’t think re-opening the wound and then stitching it back up again would make it look any better – which, of course, made our decision a whole lot easier. If he’d told us he thought the surgery was essential, and would make a huge difference to Max in the future, we’d obviously have given them the go-ahead: as it was, though, we didn’t see any reason to put our baby through a general anaesthetic for no real reason, and the doctor agreed. So that was that.

(Old photo: I was in no frame of mind to be thinking about taking photos this week…)

The good news is that, not only is the lip already looking a whole lot better (While there will be a scar, it’s not like he’s going to be horribly disfigured or anything…), if it does bother Max at some point in the future, we’ll have the option of having it corrected – and, once he’s old enough to be able to keep still during the procedure, it would be done under a local anaesthetic, too, which is even better news.

So, all’s well that ends well: er, other than the £60 parking fine we found on the car when we left the hospital, obviously – that wasn’t so great, tbh. (Long story, but basically we parked in torrential rain, on a street where the road markings were totally obscured with flooding. There were tons of other cars parked there, and also parking metres – which we used to pay for a ticket, FFS – so Terry assumed it was OK to park there, and, well, it wasn’t. Apparently.) That, however, was the very least of our worries: for now, we’re just relieved to be able to put this whole episode behind us, and so, so grateful that all we had to deal with was a split lip, and not something more serious. I’m really aware that not everyone is so fortunate, and spending time in a children’s hospital – and at accident and emergency, yesterday – really brought that fact home to me.

Max’s injury was thankfully very minor (And I should say here that my anxiety was never about his lip: I always knew it would heal, and that he would still be the most beautiful boy in the world, scar or not. It was purely the thought of him having to be knocked it to fix it that was messing with my head…), and I know perfectly well that there will be plenty more bumps and scrapes in his future – especially if he continues to insist on seeking out danger wherever he goes. That doesn’t, however, make it any less scary to see your precious child gushing with blood, or facing even the smallest of surgeries, so if we DO have to find ourselves back at accident and emergency in the future, I just hope it’s for something equally minor, and with an equally happy outcome.

(I also hope we manage to find a legal parking space next time, but as this is Edinburgh we’re talking about about, I’m not getting my hopes up…)