The stitch(es) are gone!

Look, ma...no stitches!

Went back to the plastic surgeon’s office today to get my stitches out. Very quick and virtually painless. Just keep it clean and dry for a week, then firmly massage vitamin E or Mederma into the scar to break it up. He wants to see me in three months, and then we’ll talk about dermabrasion to get the rest of the smaller scars.

It looks better than I expected! Maybe this plastic surgery thing IS for me, after all!

Just kidding.

Nose job progress

The surgistrip came off last night just before bed. Although I’m kinda freaked out by the stitches, I’m glad the strip is gone. Between that and the Band-Aid I wear to cover it when I’m out in public, I was starting to feel like Baby Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer when his dad covers his nose with that black putty stuff.

“Nose Job:” The Day After

"Nose job:" one day after

Hideous, right?

Okay, I know it’s not that bad, but still. It’s on my FACE.

I avoided the bus stop yesterday and today so I wouldn’t have to answer questions. I did have to go out today to get haircuts for Mom and I, so I slapped a bandage over it so little old ladies wouldn’t keep stopping me to tell me I had blood on my nose.

The whole thing went well; the worst part (as I later told my kids as they stared at me, slackjawed) was when they gave me the injection to numb the area.

Holy crap, that hurt! Tears welled up. I gripped the armrests like I did when I gave birth (the time WITHOUT the epidural).

It was awfully creepy to feel the skin being tugged off my nose, too. Still can’t quite shake that.

On the up side, when I got my eyebrows waxed at the salon today, it was cake. A walk in the park.

I’m going back next Friday to get the stitches out.

Hope it doesn’t hurt.

Under the Knife

By the time you’re reading this, I probably will have gone “under the knife.”

That’s right. I’m having a little “work” done.

To make a boring story short, I got a terrible acne scar last summer. Mom had been in the hospital, there was stress, then acne, then Jimmy Buffett. I never made it to the dermatologist. I figured the thing would heal up, like they usually do.

Nope.

Left a crater on the tip of my nose that Neil Armstrong could’ve moonwalked across.

Now, I’m not a big proponent of plastic surgery. I believe, that in many cases, you should try to just love yourself as you are.

On the other hand, it’s my FACE. And not off to the side…on the TIP of my NOSE. You can’t miss it if you tried!

Back onto the first hand: if it were one of my kids, I’d have it fixed without thinking twice.

On the second hand, it’s my own damn fault for not getting to the effing dermatologist last summer. Maybe a nice scar across the middle of my face would be a good reminder that I need to take care of myself, too.

If it were any other part of my body, I probably wouldn’t even consider it.

Then there are the what ifs. What if it’s not covered by my insurance like they said it would be? What if it comes out worse than it looks now? What if it gets infected and my nose falls off completely…or worse, that I die and my kids have to grow up without a mother because she was annoyed by an acne scar?

So, in short, I’m a mess. Ambivalent about the whole thing. Wishing it all would just go away. Wanting Mr. Hoagie to come with me to hold my hand, but refusing to talk to anyone (especially Mom) about it because I don’t want to acknowledge it’s even happening. Shuddering at the thought that my face will be bandaged & stitched up, and I still have to go out in the world looking like that. I’m doing a charity walk on Saturday morning, and having people over Saturday night.

What do I tell them? (I know, who cares? But I stress over these things.)

It goes against everything I believe about a woman’s self-image.

Or, does it?

I know I’m lucky. The fact that an acne scar is at the top of my list of major health concerns is reason enough to be thankful. It SHOULD be covered by my insurance. I should be grateful that I even HAVE insurance.  I should be grateful that MY kid didn’t die of brain cancer last Valentine’s Day.

(Oh, I am grateful. Especially after writing all this out!)

Still…I wish I didn’t have to deal with this.

Wish me luck.