I am having my operation today. Rhinoplasty to reduce a pronounced hump, and correction for a "deviated septum" (I rather like that phrase!).
I will write from day to day; but before I start, here is a bit of my nasal journey so far…
The Long Before
Anyway, it is all conjecture; all I know is that as long as I can remember it has seemed the dominant feature of my face. From my teens (of course!) I have been self-conscious about it, but then I am quite self-conscious about everything, and have tended to focus my anxieties on other things (like my weight). Naturally drawn to public performance, I have for years avoided it because of startlingly violent nerves, much of which I think can be traced to lack of confidence in my appearance. I have to say that there is every chance that this has never come from anywhere else but myself. I cannot once remember an unkind remark about my nose in particular. I just have a really strong feeling that this is a reality. In fact, throughout a fat and goofy teenage, I could count the incidences of nasty remarks in general on one hand. Over the years, far far outweighed by nice ones.
But what do they matter?!
So, there it is. The motivation is boredom! I am bored of looking at myself so critically. I want to be able to see what it’s like to take a chance on my intellect, my voice, my few talents, whatever, rather than shrink away behind an "unacceptable" appearance.
Then I should do some more work psychologically, shouldn’t I? Doesn’t everyone say that I’ve got nothing to worry about? Isn’t this a quick fix that won’t make any difference to how I feel? How vain can you get to want to have something so invasive done to the very structure of your face? Maybe. But in the end you make a decision. For me, again, it was boredom. I was bored of considering it! I am mature enough at 34 to know that it’s not going to change the world; and I have come to some sort of accommodation with my body that I quite like bits of it nowadays! I have "character"; I don’t want to be a "babe" anymore. I don’t want to be that different. I just want this different.
And Mike and I are nearly in credit – so we can afford it!
The Little While Before – Practicalities
After a few months I hadn’t heard anything from my GP’s referral, so I rang Mr Martin’s office direct. They had not received a letter, but I made an appointment anyway for a consultation. I also found a couple of private clinics and got some details from them. I phoned one and had a long chat with an administrator – all very nice but a bit "glitzy" for me. Although I had read quite a lot about the procedure in books and brochures etc, it was just before my consultation at the beginning of October, that I thought I would surf the web to find any helpful sites, and came across this one. I was really pleased to read all the information, the forum messages and particularly the journals. Taking Debi’s advice I checked that Mr Martin was a BAAPS member, and this helped make my choice.
The consultation was quite short as I was already quite well-informed. I had written a full list of detailed questions which I just went through with him. In addition to the questions you would expect to ask, I was particularly interested to know if the procedure would have any deleterious effect on my voice. Mr Martin said he had not been asked that before, but that it wouldn’t as it didn’t affect the sinuses or any other respiratory or vocal organs; although for the first few weeks facial movement would be impeded. In fact, there was a possibility that nasal breathing would be easier. This had been another consideration for me: I have never been able to breathe very well through my nose. This means I get a very dry mouth and always wake in the night to drink. Any hint that the procedure might help, is a bonus.
And so I found Mr Martin quietly confident - laid back, but authoritative. He didn’t give me any bullshit or hard sell, and I left feeling confident in his ability.
The consultation cost £90. The all-in cost of the operation would be £3400. This is more than the two other quotes I had been given from clinics (though not much) and quite a lot more than figures given by a couple of other people on this site. However, everything is more expensive around here and it is about what I was expecting. I could have gone to see some others, but by now I just wanted to get on, and I had confidence in Mr Martin, which is important. I’d worked out I could pay it off in about a year. (Subsequently, my parents have very generously given me a sizeable contribution to the cost).
The Just Before – The Rollercoaster
And it didn’t stop until the credit card slip was signed.
The
During -
The Op
Here are the official
"before" pictures. Au Naturel! Taken in the garden before we
left
for the hospital.
My operation is scheduled for 5pm. We were told to arrive by 3pm. I feel calmer now – passed the point of no return! A receptionist takes us to pay and then to my room. She, as everyone else in the place, is incredibly cheerful and chirpy – all part of the private healthcare experience! And soon after a nurse arrives to take some details, blood pressure, temperature and weight. I like the hospital scales – they have shaved 2kg off me since yesterday. I am left with a cardboard thing that looks like a cheap party hat, in which to give a urine sample. Not my usual dead cert since I was prohibited from eating or drinking anything after 11 O’clock this morning (large breakfast and a pint of water polished off at 10.59am!).
I am more concerned about the anaesthetic. I still remember my last and only experience as a toddler, that momentary feeling of suffocation after the gas mask went on. I was fearless then; I am a bag of custard in comparison nowadays.
There was a bit of a wait. We watch a bit of TV and chat, and Mike eats cake (swine!). I have to put on some tight knee-length white stockings as a precaution against thrombosis and the usual immensely practical theatre gown, which just unveils everything, red-sea like, every time you bend over. At about 4.30pm the anaesthetist comes in and asks some questions about allergies and my general health and tells me about the anaesthetic procedure. It is quite common to feel nauseous afterwards, so I am to expect that.
A little later than scheduled, at about 5.15pm, a porter and nurse come to collect me and I am wheeled away on a trolley. A little nervous in the stomach, but I am used to much much worse standing at the sides of stages. I employ my relaxation techniques which I have learned for these occasions (in the absence of any fire buckets to throw up in). Everyone chats cheerfully, and I’m wheeled into an ante-room. Here the anaesthetist inserts a tube in my forearm for the injection (no gas mask, great!). I have to clench and relax my fist several times, while his assistant wrings the top of my arm to help find the vein. I have been wearing a red tag which says I am allergic to plasters, so they debate between themselves which kind of adhesive they are going to use for the cast. I feel like Friday night after a few Stellas, and then………
I am awoken with someone saying "Hello gorgeous. Operation’s all over now". I can make out a radio playing "I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky…" Crap song, but quite apt really!
After a few minutes, they wheel me back to my room. It’s about 8pm, so it’s taken a little longer than anticipated. Mike is waiting. I am very sleepy, with a raging thirst. I can take sips of water. The anaesthetist had warned me that my throat would be sore because of the tube that had been inserted. But it was hardly anything. My nose feels quite sore (no kidding!) and my head around the eyes aches – but really no more than a headache with a bad cold. I can’t see what everyone else sees yet, but I can feel the tough white plastic shield over my nose, and feel puffy around the eyes and forehead. Mike says I don’t look too bad, but he can see the bruising spreading over my eyelids as he speaks. After a while I feel rather nauseous – like motion sickness. They feed some anti-nausea drugs into the drip in my arm, so it soon passes.
Mr Martin comes in about half an hour later and says it had all gone well, although he had had to "work quite hard" and there had been a fair amount of blood (quite glad I wasn’t there really). Apparently my septum was bent one way and then another and then back again! Nice to know I am at the top of the deviation league…
They chuck Mike out at 10pm. I keep the TV on and snooze. The thirst is the worst thing. I keep drinking – sips at first, then great gulps and full glasses. Inevitably, therefore I have to get up in the night to the bathroom (en-suite, of course!). But the anaesthetic, or something, seems to have paralysed my bladder, which is peculiarly sluggish and doesn’t really return to full function until the next day. But as I get up, I realise I am already feeling a bit better. I feel pleased and quite confident. I can even breathe a little through my nose, and it feels "right". I look in the bathroom mirror. It’s straight! I can tell immediately. I am bruised and swollen across the inner half of my eyes and around the cheeks and I look extremely dopey. Better go back to bed.
Through the night, my nose starts to bleed. Not much, just a few drips from the front, and a little down the back, which I am told to cough out (swallowing it makes you nauseous). Most of it is congealing inside the nose. It is a bit uncomfortable, and I want to wash it all out, but try to resist the urge to tamper.
Thursday
23 November
By the morning,
I have got through two jugs of water and three cups of tea, and am
plotting
a new use for the shower attachment as a permanent hose from the tap
into
my mouth. A nurse comes in at 7am to take my blood pressure and
temperature.
All seems fine. More tea? Yes, Yes, Yes! Breakfast is
served at 8.15pm and I eat the lot. Chewing is a little
uncomfortable,
but not enough to seriously impede the all-important task of feeding.
I remain in bed
all morning. Watching TV on and off. Nurses ask me to rate the
pain
“mild, moderate or severe”, and do I want painkillers? I say it
is
mild and I don’t really need them. It
is like a tired
headache with a very blocked, caked nose. It hurts when I move my
face suddenly. And I still feel very thirsty and quite
sleepy.
The bruising is halfway across my eyes by now and is a deep purple
colour.
Quite lovely actually, I must go down to B&Q and get them to mix it!
The nurse gives me some painkillers to take home anyway. Paracetomol. That’ll save me 16p, then.
Mr Martin arrives
at 2pm and comes in for a quick chat. He tells me all looks well;
the bleeding may continue for a day or two, just clear the external
bits
and leave the inside of the nose alone. Watch out for any sharp,
throbbing pains as a possible sign of infection. Mike collects me
at 3.30pm. I suppose I am a bit anxious about leaving the
security
of the hospital, but up to now it has been far from traumatic.
Day
2 Front : First Post Op Photo
Friday
24 November
I have had quite
a good night. Much less thirsty. I have had to be a bit
careful
about moving and have put up a barrier of pillows in the bed, to remind
Mike not to bash me! Took two paracetomol in the morning as the
nose
was hurting; and had a bath with some essential oils (marjoram, roman
chamomile
and peppermint for headache and tea tree for first aid/infection),
which
helped.
The bruising around my eyes has joined up with that on my cheeks, and I guess this is the peak of it.
Day
3 Front, Right and Left
(Probably
the Peak of Bruising)
Getting well-wishing
e-mails and phone calls, which is nice. I tend not to consider
that
people actually care about me. Must try harder in future! I
am OK on my own, pottering about, mostly watching TV and videos.
I am about two feet from the telly though, as I can’t see much without
my glasses. Actually, this is the worst thing. The world
has
a certain unreality when you are
short-sighted that
has nothing to do with any surgical procedures.
The sister from
the hospital phoned in the afternoon to see how I was doing, which was
appreciated. Again, she told me about signs of infection.
Saturday 25 November
I
think she has planted a seed and I am feeling more worried this
morning.
Have not had such a good night. The tip of my nose is sore and
throbbing.
Itfeels like the scabs are pulling on the skin, so perfectly normal
really,
but I am getting more and more anxious about the throbbing – even
though
by anybody’s standards, it could not be unexpected given what has been
done. This is the first time I write an e-mail to the Forum on
this
site, and I am clearly in need of reassurance. Mike tells me that
I keep things inside and chew them over too much, so, as I am taking
this
opportunity to challenge my psychological and emotional foibles as well
as my physical ones, I phone the hospital (I hate doing things like
that!).
I do these two things not because it is getting worse, but because I
make
the decision to deal with my anxiety by reaching out to someone
else.
The nurse in charge is very helpful and seeks advice from Mr Martin and
phones me back. He says this is perfectly normal and I can loosen
the tape a bit if I need to. Of course I don’t, and I immediately
feel much better. Anxiety is a terrible thing!
All this nose stuff is quite instructional in many ways. Although it is an adventure and I am committed to the change, I have moments already of wishing I hadn’t bothered so that I could just get on with life. But that is nonsensical, because by that I mean not missing Mike’s gig last night, or going down the pub or other such normal activity. Getting on with life in the real sense means doing real things. It is action that instructs you, even if it is only what other action to take. And it also teaches you what’s important. I have taken an action; and whatever the outcome I will learn many things from it.
By the evening,
I am feeling much better. I think the bruising has reached its peak and
is going back the other way. I am getting a little bit of cabin
fever.
Despite my predilection for the food
stuff, I am these
days
pretty fit and active and am not relishing too much more of this
indoorsness.
So I manage to get my contact lenses in and we go to Asda! Of
course
people stare, but often follow it with a sympathetic smile. And
it’s
good to see the world again.
Day
5 Front/Right Side
(Beginning
to look better!)
Slept
much better last night. My head feels much better this morning;
just
heavy and dragging on the nose and sore around the tip still. But
it’s quite bearable and I feel very lucky. It is starting to itch
though. I can get to some of it, but I feel it spreading under
the
plastic cast. It can only get worse! I also hurt myself
sometimes
by looking up or around too quickly. I’m still not doing much –
can’t
really bend down for more than an instant and no lifting etc. I
am
putting arnica cream on the bruises and they are reducing. I know
this is not as effective as taking the tablets, but I was told by
Holland
and Barrett that arnica reacts very badly internally with
peppermint.
Since I have been drinking peppermint tea most days for years, I
probably
have quite a minty interior, so choose to avoid it in the absence of
professional
advice.
I can’t watch any more TV. So I spend the day catching up on band correspondence, e-mails, CD orders etc, and clear the in-box. Hurrah!
Cooking, eating,
doing a few light duties. Even had a beer.
Monday 27 November
Day
6 Front
(Bored
of these now!)
Another
quite good night. Just watching TV this morning. Richard
and
Judy can be quite compulsive! I think I will let it go for today,
until I get really bored. Besides I have only watched two of the
six videos I got from the library just before the op. As it is a
universal fact that everyone should know more Shakespeare than I do, I
watch Hamlet and Henry V. Hope this will do.
Pain-wise, the only
thing really is the pulling and soreness on the end of the nose.
There’s still quite a lot of dried blood up there and it is very
irritating.
Can’t wait to get it out. Maybe
they’ll let me
after Wednesday. Also, I am having to fight the urge to sneeze
more
often now. I am told to cough it out, but don’t know what this
means.
But as I try it, it does work. When you have the urge to sneeze –
cough, and it comes out of the mouth rather than through the back of
the
nose. Simple as that. My nose is also running a
little
(always has, so a miracle was out of the
question there).
I would like to blow it, but have to settle for a few dabs.
Have had replies from Kate and Debi from the Rhino Forum, which was great. I think this is a nice community and I should join in. It would be nice to think my experience is of interest or even encouragement to others, as theirs has been for me. But then I am, if you’ll pardon the expression, interminably nosey.
Day 7 (Nearly There!)
Mike
has a day off, so we go shopping. I am immune to the stares
now.
However, I find that my nose is a bit more sore after a while, and I
suppose
this is the cold. Spend the afternoon writing, and so time has
passed
like a bullet and I can’t really say how I’ve been feeling. Another
lesson
I need to learn.
Bruising continues to recede. A little yellow/grey on the cheeks and splodges of purple still on the lids, like badly applied eye shadow (no change there, then).
Tomorrow is the big day. The cast is coming off and all will be revealed. I do not feel as excited or anxious as one might expect. Of course I have been thinking about this for days. I am trying to prepare myself for a shock, although I think I can see quite a lot how it’s going to look even with the cast on. In some ways it’s preferable whilst it is on – at least you’re not expecting to look nice! Once it’s off there’s no going back and the real work has to be done. That’s a tad scary.
But in the end it all pales into insignificance in comparison to the fact that I will be able to scratch it…..
The Just After – The Unveiling
Wednesday
29 November
Set off for the
hospital for my 10.40am appointment. Feeling uneasy, although no
really startling emotions. As soon as I went into the
consultation
room, Mr Martin eased the plasters and plastic cast off. Slowly,
but it didn’t really hurt.
He handed me a mirror. It’s difficult to know what to say or do when you first look. It’s not what you’re used to seeing, so it’s almost impossible to say whether you feel positive or not. It’s just something you can’t really comment on. So I didn’t. I think I just said “hmmm”. Clearly this was taken badly and Mr Martin launched into explanations. He said that it was his conclusion that I had had a pretty hefty blow to the nose, from the front, which had severely damaged the septum in particular (full marks for my toddler and the TV theory then!). It was bent in several different directions and he had not been able to straighten it completely. I could see immediately what he meant – the end is still bent to the left. The profile however, is different. The hump has been much reduced; although it’s still there. The skin is quite disturbed – red, scaly and itchy. And I still look punched, of course.
It has been a strange
day. Plenty of examination in the car mirror on the way home and
at every opportunity since. I hope this ends soon, considering
this
is what I am trying to get away from! But for the moment I think this
will
be what it’s all about for the next few weeks. I am changing my
mind
every time I look. Judge for yourself, I think you will see what
I mean.
Day
8 (First Day After) - Front, left and right :
1
hour after the plaster came off
The profile is clearly improved, and that is good. But I am not so convinced about the front. But there is still swelling so I am trying to resist making up my mind, as it’s difficult to know what is swelling and what is permanent. I think it’s an improvement, but I’m not sure it’s enough. Then again, I am pleased that I think it’s going to look natural. After all, nobody would guess you’d pay for a nose that was still so big, bent and hooked!
Still hurts around
the end. Some of the scabs dislodged in the evening, so that’s a
little better. Am treating the skin with a general aqueous cream,
but it’s very tender to touch. Am feeling
tired and rather
anti-climactic. Too much excitement, clearly!
Thursday 30 November
I was told that
the nose would swell a bit for a day or two after the cast came off -
and
it has.
Day 9 Front/Left (my favourite so far)
Before
Front/Left for comparison
This makes it even more difficult to make up my mind, and I’m still not at all sure. (The left angled photo above, however, is the first one I’ve really felt quite positive about).
I think this is probably a natural low point. The anticipation is over, you’re getting a bit bored, it’s still uncomfortable and you look like a wreck. In those circumstances it’s very difficult to be objective! At the moment I still can’t make up my mind whether I look different enough or not.
When I get the photos developed and compare them with the “befores”, however, I can see the difference more clearly. I will just have to be patient and wait to see how it settles down.
The nose is quite itchy and I am sneezing more. There seems to be a rogue stitch at the front which is poking around and tickling my sneeze mechanism! Trying to continue to cough it out, as instructed. The bruising is much improved – only some yellow/grey bits still over the cheek bones; and a bit of purple over the eyelids. Some new (I think) bruising and swelling in the lower cheeks around my mouth. A bit strange but it’s not at all tender.
I have just over another week off work. I will continue posting this journal every 2 or 3 days until then, and then maybe weekly for a while. I’m sure my perspective will change many times. This is still an adventure and I’m looking forward to turning the pages….
Week
Ending 8 December 2000Photo
mid week – Wednesday 6 December
On Wednesday I went
to visit my Mum and Dad, who live about an hour’s drive away.
This
was good, as they had inevitably been a bit anxious about me, and
seeing
me looking so “normal” reassured them enormously. They seemed
very
pleased with the result – I think mainly because I still look pretty
much
like me (at least front-ways) and they didn’t have to cope with too
dramatic
a change. (Apparently I now look more like my sister, which I’m
sure will delight
her!). I think most people are anticipating having to adjust to a
completely new look, when it is not really like that at all.
Despite my uncertainties a few days ago, I think this is right. It might not be perfect, but I now have my face with a “normal” looking nose. (I must stop using that word “normal”. It really doesn’t suit me…).
When I had the nose job, I also had a very small cyst removed from just above my right eye. The small scar started bleeding on Wednesday evening, however, and in a couple of hours the whole area felt very hot and had swelled up. The next morning, although the burning had subsided a bit, the swelling was worse and stretched over my eyelid and over the top of my right cheek. Most annoying – I thought this sort of thing was all over! Anyway a trip to my GP confirmed that there was an infection there and a short course of antibiotics was prescribed. The swelling is almost gone by the end of the week, although the skin around my inner eye is flaking and bruised looking (again!). And the antibiotics, careering around wiping out all my friendly bacteria, are playing havoc with my other systems! What with this infection and the short-sightedness, my eyes are proving more trouble than the nose.
.....Went to the pub anyway…..
Having almost exhausted my supply of daily disposable contact lenses, I went to the opticians on Wednesday and Friday to be assessed and fitted for these new super-duper continuous-wear ones. So far so good (they’re very comfortable if anyone out there is considering them), although there is a long trial period and for the first few days I am only wearing them during the day. I hope they do work out, because even if I was able to wear my glasses, a quick try-on yesterday showed that they now look very silly! I’m pretty sure they didn’t look that bad when I had the hump (in fact they disguised it quite well). Anyway, I shall look forward to choosing a more delicate pair in a couple of months time. And next summer - sunglasses properly befitting a rock chick with a small(er) nose! (Actually, as it has suddenly turned very cold and wet today, the thought of any sunglasses at all cheers me up enormously).
Thought I better have a haircut, in anticipation of my return to work on Monday. Looks the same as ever. As usual. “Oh but there’s so much more movement, Sue!…” and other such bollocks from the Hairdressers’ Encyclopaedia of Glib Nonsense.
Anyway, apparently a new barnet will not be necessary, judging by the complete lack of any comment I received on my first real outing on Friday night. Went to a gig in the West Country - one of Mike’s bands. These were friends who hadn’t been told, and nobody said anything. I’m not sure whether anybody would actually, but I think if people think anything at all, they probably put it down to the fact that I'm not wearing glasses. So the contact lenses might be a very good red herring! It’ll be interesting next week when I see more people that do know I’ve had it done.
More news next week
then when I return to the office, and the gym!
