I can honestly say that I don't know anyone close to me that has had plastic surgery (at least who has admitted it :). And therefore, I really have no idea how it all works. And I'm not sure what I was expecting other than the first stages of an ear. I now think it is safe to say that plastic surgery does not give instant gratification.
So surgery was on Friday, we were home on Monday, off pain meds by choice by Wednesday (and let me tell you that if I just had my chest opened up and a rib cut out, I don't think I could have managed this), and back to the clinic on Thursday for the bandage removal.
Piece by piece the bandage is slowly removed. And I give Kennedy props for being able to sit through this...you could tell it was somewhat painful, hard to sit so still, and she was nervous as all-get-out. But she did it without a complaint, as usual. And at last, we saw her ear.
Now don't get me wrong. I didn't expect it to look perfect and beautiful and instantly resolve all of my feelings of unease. But on the other hand, I don't think I was expecting what I saw: swollen, bloody, red/pink/black/blue, not quite sure of shape...blob on the side of her head. And the doctor must have seen something flash across my face as he immediately began assuring me that the swelling would go down and the color would return to normal and it would look much more like an ear over the next few weeks. And he was right. Day by day, bandage change by bandage change, it started to look like an ear. But celebrating would wait. We still had a long way to go.
The next week I can positively say was one of the worst weeks of my life and I think Kennedy would agree. She was dealing with stomach issues from the pain meds and antibiotics. She was fighting allergic reactions to bandage materials. She just didn't feel good. And it was time to go back to school. This was the part I wasn't ready for, wasn't expecting to be so bad. Her class had been told about her surgery and what to expect when she came back, and they were instructed not to make Kennedy talk about it. But apparently when you've never had an ear, and all of the sudden you are going back to school with not only a new ear but also a bandage on your head it is a MAJOR deal. In all of her 8.5 years, I had never seen Kennedy like she was that week. She was an emotional, nervous, on the edge of a breakdown mess. And I honestly wasn't prepared on how to handle it. We had talked about what plastic surgery meant. We had talked about what her ear would look like. We had talked about having to wear a bandage to school. We had talked about it all. And she had okay'd the surgery. But none of that mattered or registered after the surgery. She was constantly crying, or acting out (for the first time in her life), or just withdrawn. And to make matters worse for me, Ryan had made the decision to go on an out-of-state golf trip that week so I was flying solo with all of this (suffice it to say, a decision that he will never be 100% forgiven for in this lifetime, as he well knows). It was a long, difficult, emotional week that I wouldn't have wished on my worst enemy.
Luckily for us, a road trip to Gatlinburg was on the calendar and was just what we needed to get off the emotional roller-coaster. Kennedy spent some much needed time with her cousin, we watched her uncle get married, and we stayed busy with all the tourist attractions. It was exactly what she needed and things started to go uphill from there.
By this point, two weeks past her surgery, her ear really started to look like an ear. There was clearly an earlobe and bottom part of the ear. And you could really see the contours of the whole ear, albeit it was under her skin and not projected yet like an ear should be (that would be stage 2 surgery). We were all feeling really good about it and she had actually asked to see it. And didn't freak out :). Kennedy finally had an ear!!!!!!!
I think I mentioned that we live a life always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did. A few days into the next week, the small black spot that the doctor had been watching looked bigger to me. And the framework looked smaller. But I chalked it up to more loss of swelling. Big mistake on my part. By the bandage change that evening, it was clear that something was wrong. And by the time that I got Kennedy to the doctor the next day, the entire ear was gone and there was now a hole where the black spot was. A very rapid infection had set in and eaten all of the rib cartilage used for the ear framework. We would be told that the hole probably saved her life...if it had eaten a hole the other way, the infection would have leaked into her blood or brain cavity and neither would have had a positive outcome. Eating the hole out meant that the infection had a place to drain away from the rest of her body. Our silver lining indeed.
I can't even begin to tell you what I felt. There are simply no words. Sitting in that exam room, I literally hit rock bottom. All of the unease, the guilt, the second-guessing...slapped me in the face. I, and I alone, put this child through all of this, now for nothing. I, a firm believer that a mother should never have to decide what her child's face should look like, made this excruciating decision and obviously it was one of the worst ones I had ever made. By this time, Kennedy and I are both sobbing. The nurse had tears in her eyes. The doctor excused himself from the room and I learned later it was because he didn't want Kennedy to see him cry. Rock bottom is not a fun place to be.
I pulled myself together enough so that they would let me leave the office. We then cried all the way to the car. Then in the car for awhile until I could see to drive. The parking attendant asked if I needed any help and let me go without paying. And I cried all the way home. And this little voice from the backseat said between tears: “Mommy, remember what Dr. Marcus said. We can fix this. It isn’t the end. I can do this again. It wasn’t that bad of a surgery.” And I cried more. And I'm honestly not sure when I stopped crying.
That was a Thursday and on Sunday afternoon, Kennedy's plastic surgeon called us to make sure we were okay, to make sure we were picking up the pieces, and to assure us that this wasn't the end and that he was with us all the way. He'll never know how much that phone call meant to me. I'm pretty sure that if we had stayed with UNC, we would have been sent on our merry way by now.
We have no idea what the infection was (there was nothing left to culture by the doctor visit 24 hours later). Her doctor had never seen anything like this, in all of his experience. We could blame it on germs at school, sleeping in a Gatlinburg hotel room, an allergic reaction from one of the ear bandages. At this point the nerves had started to grow back and Kennedy was tempted to itch her ear constantly...maybe she had something on her hands. But we really have no idea. In a way, that was a good thing. I was already blaming myself and if it wasn't something that could have been prevented, I think the blame would have only been worse.
The only way to go at that point was up. So we started climbing up that ladder. Because in the end, we would end up on top again. No matter what it took.
(NEXT BLOG: To Know Kennedy Like I Know Kennedy. ps...I'm not quite ready to continue ahead yet, it is still too raw. So enjoy some in-between blogs.)
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