Take Two!

Preface: I'm not sure where this blog will go, I start writing and I write from my heart wherever that may take me. This was a very long, painful, raw ordeal and it might end up spanning several posts.

You'll remember where we left off: an infection ate all the implanted rib cartilage, ate a hole through her ear. I literally hit rock bottom sitting in the doctor's office. Kennedy had an emotional time with it all. Take two of ear reconstruction meant surgery #12 for my baby girl. Nine years old with twelve surgeries. That is hard to even fathom. And unfair beyond belief.

But when at first you don't succeed, try try again. After several months to think things through, to recover from the first horror that was ear reconstruction, we scheduled surgery to try again. Kennedy's doctor was worried about her missing so much school again, so we scheduled for August 5th. This would allow her to enjoy her summer (and enjoy she did...a week at Nana and Pappy's in WV, a weekend at Biltmore, a week at Victory Junction Gang Camp, a week at the beach, a week with her cousin visiting, another week at the beach, topped off with a trip to Niagara Falls with Gram and Papa, not to mention a new in-ground pool in her back yard...what a boring life this child leads!) and still have several weeks to recover before going back to school.

I don't really know how I felt going into this one. Better than I felt about the last attempt. I still can't say that I felt 100% sure in the decision. But then how can you when you are deciding what your child's face should look like. Above all else, I have faith in Kennedy's doctors. I have to...this is as clear to me as it is clear to the person on my right to have faith in God and to the person on my left to have faith that the sun will come out tomorrow. Too many times I have been been required to put my daughter's life in the hands of a person who holds a medical degree. I couldn't do that if I didn't have complete and utter faith in them. And if he was willing to try again, then so were we. Our end goal has always been an ear and he was willing to do what he could to get us there.

And so we met again on the morning of August 5th. Kennedy was quiet and reserved, as usual on surgery day. Dr. Marcus was ready to roll. I walked Kennedy back and watched her be put to sleep and kissed the tear that leaked out of her eye at the last minute. And then I joined Ryan, Katie, my parents, Ryan's mom, and Pam in the waiting room. All wearing our Team Kennedy shirts. All ready to sit through the agonizing 6+ hours of surgery. Again.

If you've never had to wait while you're child is in surgery, I hope you never do. But if you have, then you know the torture that this process is. From the time you leave them until the time they call you to let you know that surgery has started, is a nightmare for me. This is the time they are prepping your child and placing them on a ventilator. Intubating my child is not an easy task and runs numerous risks. So until I have word that she has been intubated, I can't even breathe. The longer the clock ticks on without word, the more I start to worry that something went wrong. Then comes waiting hour by hour, perking up to listen each time the phone rings to see if it is your hourly update. Then taking a sigh of relief as you hear "still in surgery, all is okay." And this goes on and on and on, until finally you're called to a consult room to speak with the doctor after surgery.

Waiting in this consult room is a nerve-wracking experience. At this point, you don't yet know whether surgery went well or not, and you're child is not yet off the ventilator (and again, my child isn't an easy one to pull off either). And you're sitting there waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Marcus finally appeared. And although he was very positive, he was also more guarded than usual. Surgery went well and that was the bottom line. I walked out of the consult room not with a sense of doom, but also not with a sense of peace. I walked out only hoping that this would go better than the first take. I mean, how could it be any worse?

It can often take a long time between the end of surgery and being called into the recovery room. With Kennedy, we are usually called faster than most parents so that we can restore her gift of hearing. They can't figure out what the problem is if she can't hear them. The downside of this is that they usually don't have the pain controlled yet, and the wake-out-of-anesthesia effects are still very visible. I've told you before, I hate the recovery room process. And this time, it was worse. She was in SO much pain. And she was filled with so much "gunk." Gunk, you say? Let me explain. For years, Kennedy has dealt with thick throat secretions (think post-nasal drip x 100 x every single minute of her life). Her allergist, another of our angels, has this under control for the most part these days. But when she's intubated, very thick secretions are pulled from every nook and cranny and it is an awful side effect to surgery. Crying only increases the gunk factor. In the ideal world, she would cough all of this gunk out. But after having her chest cut open and rib cartilage removed, coughing is way too painful. The scary part is we know what this gunk can do. If not taken care of, it will end with a collapsed lung. Eventually after many pain drugs, suction wands, and Benadryl, Kennedy is cleared to head up to her room.

Thankfully, Dr. Marcus sent us to a regular room instead of the ICU. It took awhile for Kennedy to settle down this time, and that was a little unsettling to me. Whereas recovery is an awful process, she is usually calm by the time we leave. But it took her some time this time around, and a lot of pain meds. And let me just say that this is an issue where Kennedy and I butt heads these days. I know what it is like for her to get behind on pain meds. It is not pretty. So I push pain meds for the first 48 hours, till she can better judge her pain and make her own decision about meds. She knows the side effects of these pain meds (which are also not pretty) and tries to limit what she has to take. The more we go through this journey, the more this becomes a fight between us. I think I'm losing...

Our hospital stay was somewhat uneventful, I think. With all that happened after that first surgery, I don't remember all the details of the earlier days. Once again Kennedy had the huge q-tip bandage on her head. She quickly weaned herself from the pain meds. We were home by Monday, all hoping that this was Kennedy's lucky break. Life was returning to as normal as possible.

An appointment was scheduled for that Friday, August 12th, to remove the large bandage, this time in the OR with Kennedy asleep. That way, Dr. Marcus could really examine and really clean up her ear. So needless to say, the waiting game was on...again.

(NEXT BLOG: Lucky 13)