Since I got completely tired of answering the question “how did your surgery go?” for all my friends and acquaintances one by one, I decided to recount the operative and postoperative periods for everyone at once, point by point.
First, I must say that I don’t remember the exact process of my surgery very clearly, because at the most interesting part, when they started cutting my nose, I accidentally dozed off and, as always, missed everything…!!!
But seriously, I’ll say that anesthesia is a very funny thing (I can already imagine the indignant look of serious, bearded doctors with glasses telling me in an angry voice: “Child, anesthesia is no joke”).
Since I was very lucky with my doctor, who described the whole surgery to me very colorfully and carefully, all that was left for me was to wait for this day with great interest and impatience.
The long-awaited Friday arrived. My mood was as if I was going for a walk; by 10 AM, I was already at the hospital, my mood still excellent, humming some very cheerful songs I walked into the operating room on my own two feet, lay down on the operating table as comfortably as possible, as if they were about to show a movie. A very kind uncle-anesthesiologist connected some contraptions called IV drips to my arms, and suddenly these contraptions started working… my mood soared even higher, dark humor kicked in, Uncle Anesthesiologist played along, we mocked my nose to the fullest, my head started spinning, I was looking from one point to another—the frame froze and… that was it—complete blackout. I was making so much noise that poor Uncle Anesthesiologist probably never appreciated a minute of silence so much before. It was as if I was unplugged from the socket, or rather from the main switch, or even more accurately, from the Nuclear Power Plant itself.
Hardly had I opened my eyes when someone was shooing me off the operating table onto a hospital bed. I don’t remember this period very well because I kept falling asleep and waking up involuntarily, and every time I opened my eyes, a new company appeared in the ward, a sort of support group, which, frankly, was a bit annoying, because they looked at me as if I had at least had a leg amputated, a kidney transplanted, full-body plastic surgery, and a complete change of skin color. It was also annoying that every time I woke up, I couldn’t open my eyes because there were some strange, cold, sausage-like things lying on them, which later turned out to be there to prevent my eyes from swelling. An unpleasant sore throat bothered me, like during tonsillitis, and I was also very hungry because I couldn’t eat anything since morning, and after the surgery, my poor jaw was humanly incapable of chewing anything, so they stuffed me with some stupid products like yogurt (I dislike yogurt and my philosophy teacher equally).
The next day I was supposed to be discharged, but before that, I had to face the scariest part—THE REMOVAL OF THE TAMPONS! And despite the doctor promising it wouldn’t hurt, I still felt like I was voluntarily sitting on an electric chair. I don’t know and don’t remember what he said to me then, but I remember: one, two, the first tampon is gone; one, two, the second one is gone too, a tickle in the nose, nothing hurts… I even felt offended, because all my conscious life I had been physically and psychologically preparing for this moment—and they didn’t even let me suffer.
And so, I’m already home. My eyes are barely visible, there’s a red blood-stained bandage under my nose, my face is swollen, in short, I look like a character from a low-quality horror movie.
A few days passed. My already much-loved doctor managed to perform the whole surgery so carefully that I had absolutely no pain whatsoever. So there I am, lying in bed, I’m not allowed any physical strain, nothing hurts, which means there is absolutely nothing to do… and what’s left for me? Well, of course, to look in the mirror and die laughing. You had to see it, the impression was as if my mom was a mix of an Uzbek and a Mongolian, and my dad was the chief of the redskins!!!
And for complete happiness, all I lacked was the viral flu. I started sneezing and coughing with all my might, but you’re not allowed to sneeze… Someone told me then that if you bite your tongue, the urge to sneeze will pass (I probably took this method too close to heart, so I wasn’t just biting, I was chewing my tongue off), and my doctor said I needed to pinch the bridge of my nose to stop sneezing. Naturally, trusting the doctor but not losing the habit of chewing on my tongue, it resulted in a very funny picture. Imagine: a pre-sneezing face (a new term), the bridge of the nose pinched right to the brain, and a tongue bitten with all its might. It’s a pity the doctor didn’t see me at that moment; he definitely would have liked the picture!
A week passed and it’s Friday again, I go for a dressing change. The process wasn’t painful at all; on the contrary, I was very happy because this thermoplastic (the surgery definitely improved my vocabulary) the color of a baby’s surprise was finally going to be removed, and in its place, a thermoplastic, but… attention… fanfares… of a super-stylish-trendy-cool lilac color!!! I mean, find me any plastic surgeon who thinks about the color of their patients’ noses!
The second week passed faster because the swelling almost went down, my human appearance was returning, and sometimes I went out, and you could write 3 books about the reactions of passers-by. First, I must say that along with the lilac thing on my nose, lilac scarves, jackets, etc., appeared in my wardrobe, and one woman, after studying the correlation between my lilac blouse and the bandage for a long time, finally couldn’t hold back and asked, “Tell me, do you have a different bandage for every blouse color?”!
Grown-up ladies who had rhinoplasty at my age called me (well, that was approximately in 349 BC, when people had their noses broken alive with a mallet to do plastic surgery!) and consoled me, saying they knew what a terrible and intolerable pain it was, that they also survived all this and knew what hell it is when the tampons are removed (for some reason they didn’t believe me when I said nothing hurt), and finally promised that in 2 months the pain would become much milder. I felt very awkward because I had no idea what they were talking about, and out of politeness, I agreed with all the ailments they pinned on my nose.
My favorite Friday came again. Every Friday, a trip to the doctor became a ritual, a call of nature for me! Well, until Friday, the Nose and I naturally had minor technical malfunctions. For example, 2 hours before my Friday ritual, I woke up and saw that the lilac cast was sitting very neatly on my pillow, and the funniest thing is that, half-asleep, I thought my nose had fallen off!
Without thinking twice, I glued it back on and went to the doctor!!! Since my very, very kind doctor is probably reading this story right now, I won’t recall all these funny malfunctions, because he will have all the arguments to hang me and say that’s exactly how it was!
Well, the last week passed almost instantly with a small bandage on my nose, and as a result… a new, beautiful nose, an acquaintance with the best plastic surgeon Gevorg Yuryevich, with whom it is also very fun and pleasant to communicate, and of course, 3 very funny weeks!!!
PS. If any of you ever decide on plastic surgery, then boldly go to my doctor Gevorg Yuryevich, and I guarantee you an excellent result and a bonus of a few funny weeks, otherwise, I will return your old nose to you!!!
