I woke up to my favourite radio station who was talking about the laird hotel. And a Scottish background lady rang up around 0545 to sing the Scottish song of “the laird o’cockpen”.
I drove us to the city cause I didn’t know how long it would be before I got to drive my truck again.
The nurse that took us into a room for my checkin process was shocked when she asked me what procedure I was having and I rattled out “bi-maxillary osteotomy, septorhinoplasty and genioplasty”. She asked if I had studied saying it the night before lol
And for her kindness, she let me stay in the private room for over an hour with Jon and Alex just so I wasn’t sitting outside waiting for my name to be called whilst watching others get taken in.
And then around midday, I got taken to the next stage waiting area, said my bye byes to Jon and Alex and waited patiently in the bed to be wheeled in.
And up to that point, everything was ok. I was a little nervous, but surprisingly calm.
And then I got wheeled into the theatre, and shuffled over onto the surgery bench. And I saw everything in the room. And that’s when I started to lose it.
And I started to cry. (And I’m trying my best not to cry as I write this).
And one of the nurses took me by the hand and said “don’t worry, it’s going to be alright. You’ve got the best man in the whole country looking after you today. No one else would be able to do what he is doing for you.”
And whilst that was a comfort to know, at that moment it didn’t matter anymore because after the month of preparations I did, I no longer had the control of the situation and was heading into the unknown.
All I knew is that the pain I had in my jaw for a few years was finally going away, and maybe my nose would get better (third time lucky 🤞).
But outside of that, I had no idea what life would be like when I woke up.
I went to sleep with my anxiety around 1230 and woke up around 2030. 8 hours under anaesthesia is a bit of a whack.
I didn’t want to see myself that night - I was too scared.
I was exhausted, unable to eat or drink properly, drugged up to the hilt, needles and tubes everywhere (or so it felt).
I had asked for a private room before the surgery but none were available so I had to share a room with three old men who were constantly complaining about stuff and I could barely speak, let alone complain.
I discovered what morphein actually was that night.
And I was looked after by the best nurse on the night shift. I was lucky to have her. Because the daytime nurses were terrible.
Removing drainage tubes from my neck was a strange experience (thank you morphein for making another appearance).
But all I was scared of after that was having packs taken out from my nasal cavities. Having remembered from the last time I had my nose operated on, I did not want to exist for that part, nor was I allowed to have morphein because I wouldn’t have been allowed to go home afterwards under the effects of it.
It was a rough experience, not being able to speak clearly, dealing with a patronising nurse, whilst trying to beg for someone I knew to be there before the packs got taken out of my nose. I think reaching the point of crying seemed to get my message across.
The first night back at home I lost my shit and threw a box of tissues across the room because I couldn’t stop saliva from building up in my mouth. I still had something else holding the bridge of my nose open which stopped me having the back airway to swallow clearly. So I spent the week walking around with a box of tissues and a big bamboo salad bowl.
When I had my one week checkup, the surgeon removed the extra packing in my nose.
I remember going to the toilet afterwards and looking in the mirror and telling myself “wow, I have a beautiful nose!”.
And that day I had the experience of smelling an aroma by choice - it didn’t matter what I was smelling. It was amazing because prior to that, I was unable to take a deep breath to smell something for what it was due to the blockage I had lived with for so many years. That day I almost cried from something that seemed so simple, but was such a new thing for me. It was the first “reward” of sorts after having had the surgery.
I experienced regular nightmares of the surgery in the months after it happened, but they eventually disappeared. I still have it but very very rarely now.
Many things have happened in the ten years since I had the surgery. I have done a lot of things, good and bad, and I have grown lots and never thought I would be as stable as I am today.
So happy tenth anniversary, face, you’ve dealt with heaps, and cost a lot of time and money, but it’s handy having you around.
