I must have really bad genes. Or my husband does. Or something about the unique combination of said genetic material resulted in some key-ray-zee-ness around here. Oy, the medical issues of these offspring of ours.
The thing is, they're really beautiful, strong, healthy children. They are bright and energetic (sometimes a tad too much), and I thank the Lord every day and night that He has graced our lives with them. And I realize every day that there are folks who only pray that their children had the "problems" mine do, and would trade in a heartbeat for the inconveniences that we're dealing with here. To complain about my kids' (like I'm about to anyway) is a little like whining that my Rolls Royce got grazed by a shopping cart -- boo hoo, I know. But, the little things, it's the little things that make us nutso.
Like this one, the little one: The one that swings from the chandelier like a monkey? And wishes with all his might to live the "Pirate Life?" Well, he's not too far off. The pirates, I hear tell, have only a few teeth in their heads, and the ones they have, well, they're not in too fine a form. So he'd fit right in. Dentist visit this morning revealed another THREE cavities. yep, in 6 month's time since his last cleaning, the child developed THREE cavities. And yes, he does own a toothbrush -- in fact, there are about four in his bathroom that are in current rotation. Yet, despite all our brushing, flossing, etc. the child still has holes in his teeth you can drive a truck through. Nearly all of his baby teeth, including the front top ones, now have some kind of cap, crown or filling. And of course, being the, ahem, "high-spirited" child that he is, they can't do any of the work without him being fully sedated. As in IV, anesthesiologist, HR monitor, the whole works. As I said, OY.
And then this one. The Elder Child. Hockey defensemen extraordinaire, homework-impaired genius, my little triathlete: He's got feet flatter than the Flintstones. And he's been in various levels of pain with them since about 2004. The day of his triathlon, he was limping and lurching through about the last half-mile of the run, and was in severe pain for about 2 days afterward. Skating is OK, for now, since his hockey skates pretty much immobilize his foot -- there the big problem is the grimacing and wincing as he puts his skate on. He's had custom orthotics for the last three years, and rarely a day goes by lately that he doesn't very nearly collapse when he puts his full weight on that foot. Basically, two bones of his upper foot are fusing together, as in bone-on-bone action, with some scar tissue thrown in for good measure. The x-rays we took two weeks ago showed noticeable decline when compared to the ones from 6 months ago.
So he's slated for surgery next Thursday -- his big Christmas present is that he gets to wait until AFTER Christmas to get his right foot fixed. He's getting the calcaneo-navicular coalition removed (say THAT three times fast), having a titanium implant inserted into his arch, and having his achilles tendon sliced to give him more mobility and flexibility. He'll be in a surgical splint for three weeks, with crutches, then a walking boot for the next 9 weeks. Then, in the summer, we get to do the same thing all over again for the left foot. Yee-haw.
The thing is, the little one -- perfect feet. Physically, the kid is lean, long and fearless. This one, he'll be my X-Games athlete, if I let him. And the Elder Child -- perfect teeth. As in no cavities. Ever. All but one of his baby teeth are gone now. He lost three in the last two weeks -- move away from the microwave, child!! And he's never had a cavity. But the feet. Oy.
So I'm wondering, were we to roll the dice and go for three mutant offspring, would the resulting child be the one with perfect teeth AND perfect feet? Or the one with bad teeth and bad feet to boot? I'm thinking we're not even going to consider trying to find out!
Gotsa run -- we've got tickets for a Night at the Museum at IMAX! Wahoo!