Horn Removal - The Whole Story
So here's more detail about the surgery that Katherine went through on Monday. It is a very simple procedure, really. As the doctor said, "she'll cut herself worse than this in a few years." Yet, still, the experience was unsettling to us, particularly Kara, because it was so clinical. And as they review medical history, make you sign waivers, mark the site with a surgical pen, and put her in a baby johnnie and socks (very cute, really), you begin to realize, this is not a small thing. She's going under general anesthesia to have surgery. Kara held it together well. However, when they put her to sleep, they told us that one of us might be able to accompany her. I was chosen (I am also the chosen one for shots. Hmmm.) because I have a higher tolerance for disturbing things than Kara.
Anyway, the check-in was smooth and professional. The nurses were, as most nurses are, fantastic and super caring about the procedure. We got her changed, and they took her vitals (including blood pressure with a little baby blood pressure strap), and we waited. We were visited by an anesthesiologist and one of the assisting surgeons to review the procedure. They marked the site with a surgical pen (silly, really, since it was pretty obvious, but they do have a procedure to follow, which I totally respect), but forgot to initial it. So one of the assisting surgeons comes over with a sharpie and puts his initials on Katherine's cheek. A sharpie for Pete's sake.
OK, moving right along. I had to suit up in a gown and mask and follow her to the operating room when the procedure was about to begin. She was very excited by the walk, not knowing what was going to happen. We got into the room, and they prepared the breathing mask with the sleepy gas in it. Then, I had to hold the mask over her face until she went to sleep, and that part was not pleasant. She enjoyed it for about a second, and then started crying and squirming, and then she would inhale, and she slowly went limp until her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. It was like we killed her, even though I knew it was only sleepy gas. Then, I cradled her head and carefully put her on the operating table, and gave the OR nurse her favorite, smelly lovie, and had to leave.
She was out a half hour later, looking like she'd just had open heart surgery. She was hooked up to all kinds of equipment, and asleep in the recovery room. The recovery room nurse was great. She was dedicated to Katherine, but gave us space. We let her sleep for a few minutes, but then she woke up. She was groggy, and not in complete control of herself, and very unhappy. She cried, cried, and cried. She particularly didn't like the blood pressure monitor, because it was on her ankle, and every couple of minutes it would contract as the measurement was made, and she'd start crying all over again. Eventually, we gave her some sugar water, and she got to a better place. She was discharged shortly after, and we were given instructions for how to care for her. We expected she'd be out of sorts for the rest of the day, which was true, but didn't know what to expect after that. In retrospect, nothing, since she was back to her normal self on Tuesday.
She fell asleep in the car on the way home, and slept for a few hours after we got home. Then she had a real fussy evening, but with some energy, and went to bed early.
Then, on Tuesday, she got sick, but that's another story. She doesn't seem to be in any pain at all, even from Monday afternoon on. I have to admit, though, I miss her horn now that it's gone. It got really used to it. It was just a part of who she is. But now, it seems funny that it's gone, even though I know it's for the best.
I was pretty unhappy that the insurance company wouldn't pay for this procedure, since they said it was purely cosmetic. I mean, imagine the abuse she would have taken as a kid and teenage with this thing. We'd have cost them far more in shrink bills. And when I had to pay it, I grumbled about how expensive it was, because it was pretty damn expensive. But I have to admit, as we were driving home on Monday, I couldn't help but think, hey, for the amount of care and dedication we experienced at the hospital, the price was cheap.
Oh yeah, and they removed the sharpie initials somehow after the procedure. Nice touch.
Anyway, the check-in was smooth and professional. The nurses were, as most nurses are, fantastic and super caring about the procedure. We got her changed, and they took her vitals (including blood pressure with a little baby blood pressure strap), and we waited. We were visited by an anesthesiologist and one of the assisting surgeons to review the procedure. They marked the site with a surgical pen (silly, really, since it was pretty obvious, but they do have a procedure to follow, which I totally respect), but forgot to initial it. So one of the assisting surgeons comes over with a sharpie and puts his initials on Katherine's cheek. A sharpie for Pete's sake.
OK, moving right along. I had to suit up in a gown and mask and follow her to the operating room when the procedure was about to begin. She was very excited by the walk, not knowing what was going to happen. We got into the room, and they prepared the breathing mask with the sleepy gas in it. Then, I had to hold the mask over her face until she went to sleep, and that part was not pleasant. She enjoyed it for about a second, and then started crying and squirming, and then she would inhale, and she slowly went limp until her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. It was like we killed her, even though I knew it was only sleepy gas. Then, I cradled her head and carefully put her on the operating table, and gave the OR nurse her favorite, smelly lovie, and had to leave.
She was out a half hour later, looking like she'd just had open heart surgery. She was hooked up to all kinds of equipment, and asleep in the recovery room. The recovery room nurse was great. She was dedicated to Katherine, but gave us space. We let her sleep for a few minutes, but then she woke up. She was groggy, and not in complete control of herself, and very unhappy. She cried, cried, and cried. She particularly didn't like the blood pressure monitor, because it was on her ankle, and every couple of minutes it would contract as the measurement was made, and she'd start crying all over again. Eventually, we gave her some sugar water, and she got to a better place. She was discharged shortly after, and we were given instructions for how to care for her. We expected she'd be out of sorts for the rest of the day, which was true, but didn't know what to expect after that. In retrospect, nothing, since she was back to her normal self on Tuesday.
She fell asleep in the car on the way home, and slept for a few hours after we got home. Then she had a real fussy evening, but with some energy, and went to bed early.
Then, on Tuesday, she got sick, but that's another story. She doesn't seem to be in any pain at all, even from Monday afternoon on. I have to admit, though, I miss her horn now that it's gone. It got really used to it. It was just a part of who she is. But now, it seems funny that it's gone, even though I know it's for the best.
I was pretty unhappy that the insurance company wouldn't pay for this procedure, since they said it was purely cosmetic. I mean, imagine the abuse she would have taken as a kid and teenage with this thing. We'd have cost them far more in shrink bills. And when I had to pay it, I grumbled about how expensive it was, because it was pretty damn expensive. But I have to admit, as we were driving home on Monday, I couldn't help but think, hey, for the amount of care and dedication we experienced at the hospital, the price was cheap.
Oh yeah, and they removed the sharpie initials somehow after the procedure. Nice touch.
posted by David at
8:07 PM
