Every morning when I wake, I am afraid to look in the mirror. The right side of my face is caving in. Day by day, the cheekbone disappears. The right eye droops. I recall a man asking me a few months before the surgery if I was Cherokee “because of your cheekbones.”

Two years ago, an ENT I was seeing for tinnitus destroyed my face with three unnecessary nasal and sinus surgeries. I’d had no idea that something like this could happen. He’d said he was removing a polyp and that he would fix “that deviated septum” at the same time.  I thought the septum was just the divider between the nostrils. I didn’t care if he wanted to re-arrange it. I had no symptoms, but maybe I was about to develop some. He was the doctor. He knew best. Right?

How do you alter a face and amputate part of a nose while removing a polyp and fixing a deviated septum?

I have spent the past two years trying to figure that out. I now have some of the answers.  The ENT performed the septoplasty incorrectly. He over-shortened the septum, drawing up the lower third of my nose and exposing my nostrils.  This drawing up created a bunching effect on the formerly smooth curve of my nose. According to one plastic surgeon, I now have a mild saddle nose deformity. My nasal bridge sank into my face due to the amputation of the septal bone and cartilages that support the nose. The boney hump just below the bridge is caused by a bowing out of the shortened septum.  In addition, the soft tissues that padded the bridge and provided the shape and smoothness were “lost in the surgery.”

The septum is a boney plate that extends into the head: Nasal Septum Article. Usually, when a septum has been over-shortened, it is repaired with bone harvested from the remaining septum. I have no remaining septal bone. Repair, if possible, will require a rib graft.

This plastic surgeon said I’d had osteotomies—a nose job, and that the bones were infractured in the upper part of my nose. If true, this could not have been done by accident.

So altogether, this is what happened to my formerly beautiful nose: The nasal bridge is narrowed. The padding is gone, exposing the bones through the skin. There is a hump below the bridge. The bottom third is pulled up. The exposed nostrils are asymmetrical. With the bunching, the loss of the bridge and the nose pulled up, I have a pig snout.

If a surgeon wanted to create this effect, these surgeries would be the course to follow.

But that is not all that happened to my face in this “polyp removal.” There is too much space between my nose and lips. The narrowed bridge created an excess of skin on my forehead. I have those vertical creases that women spend a fortune on botox getting rid of. Before the surgery, my forehead was as smooth and tight as a drum. I have “malar bags” under my eyes. These are due to excess skin left by the loss of nasal and other bone structure, and also caused by skin stretched, for two years, by swelling from eye infections. I have lost my cheekbones. The ENT performed an obsolete surgery called a Caldwell-Luc in which a large amount of bone is drilled out of the cheekbones. My face is now asymmetrical, almost flat on the right side. I have jowls—another place the excess skin found to roost. I have lost the padding and fullness of my face. This goes away with age. Mine went away overnight.

To be fair, the changes I describe are somewhat subtle. They are subtle enough to fall within the range of normal, as in “a normal face,” “normal aging,” “normal asymmetry.” “Normal” is a broad category when it comes to faces. However, it is not normal to have a polyp removed and emerge with a different face. It is not normal to age fifteen years in two months. It is not normal for profound facial asymmetries to develop overnight at the age of fifty-five. As another plastic surgeon said, “I have never seen this before.”

According to my pre-surgery CT scan report, I did not have a deviated septum. I did have sinus polyps. The “standard of care” for that is a steroid nasal spray. However, since I had no symptoms and made no complaint, the standard of care would have been no treatment at all.

There is no logical explanation for what this doctor did.

In August 2007, I went to see an ENT about ringing in my ears.  I brought with me a ten-dollar bottle of homeopathic medicine.  I wanted to ask Dr. S.’s opinion. He was a D.O. so I thought he might be familiar with natural remedies.  D.O.’s are more likely than M.D.’s to take a holistic approach in medicine.

I couldn’t have been more wrong in my expectations of Dr. S.  He ordered scans and found sinus polyps. On October 30, 2007, he performed three unnecessary surgeries, one of them reserved for hopeless sinus cases. The surgeries were a Caldwell-Luc, a septoplasty and a turbinate reduction. This was removed from my septum and face:  “multiple pieces of flat bone and cartilage, in aggregate measuring 4.0 x 4.0 x 0.2 cm.” My nose was shortened into a pig snout and there is no material remaining with which to repair it. Repair will require a rib graft. According to my pre-surgery CT scan, “no significant septal deviation is seen.” Post-surgery, however, significant septal deviation is seen.

Dr. S. drilled tunnels in my head and removed a portion of my turbinates—the inner organ of the nose. I am left with permanent pain and dysfunction. My nose is dried up. I have breathing problems. The bridge of my nose and my cheekbones have caved in. My face and nose are now asymmetrical. My right eye droops. My face is within the range of “normal,” but I don’t look like myself. The beauty and integrity have been surgically removed.

The price tag for this destruction came to around fifty thousand dollars, including lab work, scans, appointments, anesthesia, surgery, and the bill to the surgery center partly owned by Dr. S. Fifty thousand dollars for treatment of asymptomatic sinus polyps.  The bills for the aftermath of the destruction are hundreds of thousands and counting. The destruction to my life–uncountable.

Had Dr. S. performed a simple polypectomy—which is what I was led to believe—the cost would have been a few thousand dollars, the destruction, probably none. I certainly did not require more, and the so-called “standard of care” would have called for less. According to the article below, “Before surgery on an inferior turbinate is undertaken, a trial of medical management is mandatory.”

http://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+turbinates+in+nasal+and+sinus+surgery%3a+a+consensus+statement.+…-a098248242

If that is the case, what is the “standard of care” for asymptomatic polyps? I can answer that: It is no treatment. Though I never mentioned it to Dr. S.—until after he told me I needed surgery—I had just begun to notice stuffiness when I cried on one side of my nose—the side that had a polyp in it. I cried rarely then so it was a non-issue. Such a non-issue that—as I stated—I had not mentioned it to the ENT. I had not mentioned it to my GP or any other doctor. Surely, I would have as I was sick from a carbon monoxide exposure and I was doing a lot of complaining. My referral slip to Dr. S. says it all: Tinnitus. It was my only ENT complaint. Those were the days…

Above I refer to the “so-called standard of care” because what I have learned is that there really isn’t any. There is a mythical “standard of care” in the health care industry, and allegedly, if a doctor violates it, he or she stands to face consequences. But in the current legal atmosphere, “standard of care” is a meaningless phrase. There is one, but there is nothing you can do if it is violated. Few lawyers are accepting medical malpractice cases anymore in Ohio. It is hard to get a case into court, and those that make it into court are being lost at a rate of eighty percent. This is due to tort reform laws passed several years ago and an advertising campaign designed to poison the minds of jurors against medical malpractice cases. Thus, lawyers are only taking the worst and the most black-and-white cases.

http://www.mcandl.com/ohio.html.

It is not much better in other parts of the country.

It’s a frightening situation. For me, well beyond frightening. I am what can happen in a legal atmosphere controlled by a rich and powerful medical lobby.

     In the last post we discussed some surgeries that have been performed to cure snoring.  In this post we will look into how successful these surgeries tend to be.

     There is a surgery which removes extra tissue from the throat to prevent the fluttering that goes on during sleep and causes snoring.  This particular surgery has had mixed results.  Patients who have undergone this surgery report improvement in their sleeping in the beginning.  After a few years only 50% of these patients continue to experience a significant reduction in their snoring.  A 50/50 chance of success may not be enough for most people and it may be prudent for these people to continue to search for an alternative to this surgery.

     For those who have had the laser surgery described above, the results appear to be similar.  This surgery does eliminate the snoring in the beginning, but it tends to return about a year and a half to two years later.  The good thing is that the snoring is not as severe as it was before the surgery; the snoring was still a significant problem for about half of the people who had this surgery.  For a small minority of patients the snoring even became worse after their surgery.  Other patients could not consider themselves cured and they had to continue searching for snoring cures.

     The surgery described above that stiffens the soft tissues of the throat is so new that long term results have not been recorded yet.  If you have tried everything and are at the end of your rope, it may be worth a try to see if it will work for you. 

     Another reason for snoring that has not been previously addressed are nasal polyps.  These are growths that appear in the nasal cavity that can cause snoring and will need to be removed.  Another cause of snoring may be the deviated septum.  This happens when the septum, the divider between the nostrils, does not divide them equally.  It can cause sinus blockages that need to be cleared and the nose constructed in a way so that it does not cause blockages again.  This is something that may work for you if your reason for snoring is a deviated septum.

     There are several reasons for snoring and there also need to be several different solutions to the problem.  If surgery is warranted and has a good chance of working that would be something to consider.  For others who have not looked into surgery yet, you might try exercises designed to cure your snoring naturally.

My ENS friends and I are not doing so well. I am close to two others. We met on the Empty Nose Syndrome Association forum: http://guest.6.forumer.com/index.php. S and I were on the forum at the same time, and L contacted me, later, because we live in the same city.

We are three cases of lives derailed by turbinate surgery. Each of us represents a different decade of life, and life challenges gone awry.

S is the youngest at thirty-four. Before her surgery, three years ago, she was full of plans for her life. Right after the surgery, she was off to the Far East to curate an art show. She returned a few weeks later, in a fetal position, when the symptoms slapped her down in Vietnam. S was beautiful, talented and vibrant, a part of the New York art scene. She had a lot of friends and was physically active. Now, she works part-time at a nursery school, and is struggling to meet the demands of the job.

L is forty-three. He is married and has a young family. He was a top realtor in our city before being felled by three sinus surgeries, each successive surgery intended to correct the last. L hasn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time in almost a year. Initially, he went into high gear, determined to overcome his challenge. You don’t become a top realtor by accident. L possesses more than his share of motivation. He spent hours on a treadmill, and tried every conceivable product to manage his stifling dryness. L hasn’t sold a property in a while. He told me recently he is only living for his family.

I am fifty-seven. My story is a little different because I had physical challenges before Empty Nose Syndrome. I had autoimmune disorders, and shortly before the surgery, I suffered a carbon monoxide exposure. Like my friends above, I am well motivated. In the two years before the surgery, I studied for and took the GRE, and applied to a highly competitive Master’s program. I didn’t get in. I was preparing to take a course, and try, again. As for my health issues, I was a near vegan. I walked, meditated and did yoga daily. I worked part-time. I was determined to reach my optimum level of health and success. I don’t even think about the Master’s program, now. I think about my nose.

How did we all get here? S had a deviated septum. She breathed through one nostril more than the other. It was a minor annoyance. There was no reason for the ENT to cut her turbinates while straightening her septum, but the turbinate reduction would have added a lucrative fee to the job. L had sleep apnea. His ENT thought surgery was the answer—three surgeries. “You haven’t maxed out on your surgeries, yet,” he told L (referring to insurance maximums), every time he returned in worse shape than before. I had tinnitus—ear ringing—a result of the carbon monoxide exposure. The ENT ordered scans allegedly to check if I had a tumor near the inner ear. Scans are rarely ordered for a tinnitus case as a tumor is virtually never the cause. The scans, however, did enable Dr. S. to find a sinus polyp, and an excuse to do surgeries. Since about 40% of the population has sinus polyps, Dr. S had an excellent shot at making that basket.

And so here we are. Three lives derailed.

Over the years, I have been asked by a number of patients with deviated septums why that would make them more prone to nosebleeds.

Well, this blog article is to answer that very question. First off, a little anatomy…

A nasal septum is a wall that separates the right nasal cavity from the left side. Normally, this septum should be perfectly straight.

However, in some people, the septum may be deviated causing not only nasal obstruction, but increases the risk of nosebleeds.

When the septum is straight, nasal breathing proceeds such that the air smoothly enters the nose without creation of any turbulence.

However, if the septum is deviated, turbulence is created when the air hits the “curve” of the septum. When this happens, the lining of the septum becomes dried out resulting in cracking and increased vascularity which increases the risk of a nosebleed.

The lining of the nose in this situation is much like when a person’s lips become so dried out to the point that it cracks and bleeds.

Surgical correction of the deviated septum would result in a more long-lasting “cure” of nosebleeds as it would eliminate this curve decreasing turbulence.

For more conservative management of nosebleeds, click here.

(For “part two,” click this sentence.)

First of all, remember that thing I typed in ‘part two’ about my head/neck position while sleeping?  Well, it actually got a bit uncomfortable to do that after a few nights, so you can take it or leave it.

I’ll type some tips, based on my experience, for anyone getting this surgery.  Maybe I’ve already said some of this, but I’m too lazy to check my previous posts!

Here are some of the post-op instructions I got from the doctor that I’ve been following: spray two sprays of saline nasal spray up each nostril once per hour; antibiotic ointment around the part just inside the rim of each nostril 4 times per day (use Q-tips); 3 antibiotic capsules per day, just in case (30 capsules total); all drainage must go out the front of my nose, not down my throat; do not blow your nose–don’t even breathe through it; use a humidifier at night (Utah is sooo dry); and changing the mustache gauze dressing as needed (first day especially); avoid strenuous activity–don’t even bend down to pick up stuff (keep your head level); make sure someone’s there to take care of you for the first 24 hours.

The part about letting your nose drain out the front was the most complicated part.  It was still really runny when I went back to work on Tuesday.  I hope my once-per-minute nose-wiping didn’t gross out my coworkers too much.  Luckily, I’m mostly sitting by myself in an office–nothing strenuous.  If you’re getting this surgery, I recommend having plenty of high-quality tissues.  The tissues that have worked well for me during this time are Puffs brand 2-ply with lotion.  Expensive!  But I think the lotion part made a difference.  Also, if you’re going back to work as soon as you can, like me, then also get a small bottle of hand sanitizer with moisturizer that you can apply after wiping your nose.

Post-op pain has not been an issue for me.  In the days after my surgery, I took a total of 3 Lortabs (besides the two I had in the hospital, immediately after surgery).  I’d usually feel a little discomfort in the evening so I’d usually take a pill right before going to sleep.  So, generally, as long as I touched my nose very gently (if I had to), and avoided making exaggerated mouth movements, I was fine.

I only wore the mustache gauze dressing all day the first day, and at night the first 3 nights.  After that, I didn’t have to wear it, which is great because the adhesive on the tape left a virtually permanent residue on my face!

By the way, there has not been any scarring or bruising on my face.  It’s all inside the nostrils.

Now here’s some more present-tense relating of the happenings.  On Monday I take the day off work.  It was a smart move.  I think it’ll help me heal better to just sit around and relax (or chillax, as the kids say), and I can focus on my nose anytime I need to.  And I can wipe my nose whenever I want, however I want.  Yep…

On Thursday (a week after my surgery, or six days after, however you want to count that out), I go to my  follow-up appointment with the doctor in the afternoon.  This is when he’s going to take out whatever’s up there, which turns out to be splints and packing.  I had read someone’s story online about how it was painful to get the splints and packing out, and other stories about how it wasn’t a big deal.  So I don’t know what to expect.  It turns out to be no big deal.  I sit in the room and the doctor takes a long, thin suction instrument and sticks it into my nose.  It seems to go straight back rather than up.  He pulls out the packing and whatever other substance that may be blocking my nasal passages.  I don’t get a good look at any of the stuff before the nurse takes it from him and throws it away, and later I regret it because I bet it was incredible and disgusting and amazing.  I can breathe better immediately.  Then he takes out the splints with some tweezers or something.  I do get to see those, and they’re about 2 to 2.5 inches long.  They’re thin and rounded and I guess they’re made of plastic.

The doctor tells me to continue following the post-op instructions, but that I can gently blow my nose if I need to.  Then I schedule another appointment for two weeks later.  As I walk into the parking lot, I’m amazed at how well I can breathe through my nose.  However, I notice that I’m getting more air through the right side than the left, but I’m guessing they’ll fix that at my next appointment.  The left side is the one that had the deviated septum problem, so it probably just needs more time to heal.

The following Tuesday (yesterday, as I type this) I look up my nose in the bathroom mirror and I notice what looks like a knot of dental floss on the left side, just inside/under the outer rim.  I’m surprised I didn’t notice it before.  So, I guess there are still stitches in there.

Anyway, now it’s been almost a week since that appointment, and I am happy to report that my nose seems to be doing great.  I can touch it without having to be too gentle.  The right side has given me no problems at all.  I can breathe excellently through it, night and day.  It’s unbelievable!  The left side still has some congestion but it has not once been completely congested or blocked from getting air through it, so that’s good.  Also, since they removed the packing, drainage out the front of my nose has not been as much of an issue.

Due to the “no strenuous activity” instruction, I haven’t been getting as much exercise, which is a bummer.  I know I can go on walks for exercise, but I’m not usually a “go-on-walks” kind of guy.  You know what though, I’m probably allowed to go jogging, I just haven’t asked or tried it.  Racquetball, however, is still out of the question.

Those are all of the details I can remember right now.  In summary: so far so good!  Things are getting back to normal–make that better than normal!  ha-HA!  [insert well-enthused optimistic thumbs-up image!]  I’ll type a “part four” after my next appointment on July 2.  Feel free to post comments or ask questions, no big deal.

I plan to continue posting about my experiences for any of you out there who may be following this epic saga.  In my own experience, when I was looking for info on this procedure online, I wanted to know how things went the week of the surgery, sure, but I think I ESPECIALLY wanted to know how things are 1, 2, even 6 monhs later!  Am I right?

By the way, here’s a link to someone else’s blog post on this same subject.  Lots of comments.  It’s great.

(For “part one,” click this sentence.)

How I’ve been sleeping these past two nights, as well as the extensive naps on Friday afternoon, is based on some advice that one of the recovery nurses gave me on Friday.  I’m really glad she told me this, because otherwise I’d be following the advice on the infosheets I have, which simply says to keep my head elevated 30 degrees (and if I was doing that on my back, I’d feel sick in the morning in at least two ways).  It takes a couple of minutes of shifting around in order to get it right and feel comfortable.  I lay on my side (if I’ve just taken a lortab it’s my left side, for my stomach), and keep my head elevated, pointing my chin toward my chest and my nose toward the bed.  It may sound simple, but there’s a lot to manage: pillows, blanket, arms & hands, mustache gauze (first night only), keeping the just-in-case towel under my nose, and–most of all–getting my head/neck accurately rotated into position on the X, Y, and Z axes.  Below is an illustration that is neither to scale nor a completely accurate depiction of what I just described.

Close enough.  You get the idea.  Just don’t let anything drain down your throat.  And say goodbye to that pillowcase, probably.

It feels like it’s been longer than just 3 days.  Here’s more of my story, from where ‘part one’ left off:

Friday night.  We go to bed late, I don’t remember what time.  I wake up an hour later and roll onto my other side.  An hour later I roll over again.  Then at 4am I wake up and do some general nose maintenance.  Rebecca, bless her heart, gets up with me.  We get back in bed at 5am.

I wake up at 8:30 Saturday and I feel good.  I tell Rebecca that I’ll be fine and that she should keep sleeping.  It takes a lot of convincing, but she is finally able to fall back asleep.

By the way, that was poorly-delivered sarcasm.  I actually woke her up telling her to not get up and to keep sleeping.  Poor gal.  Maybe if she had taken 3 hours of naps the day before like me, she wouldn’t be so tired.

Since before I scheduled my surgery, we knew Rebecca’s 10-year high school reunion was Saturday June 13th.  I had read stuff online about people who had had this surgery and were fine to do stuff the next day, and at the time we weren’t sure if we were even going to go, so I took the risk and set the surgery for the 12th anyway.

I decide I’m feeling up to it, so we’re going to go.  It’ll be nice to get out of the house, test my limits.  I clean myself up pretty nicely.  I was nervous about that.  I didn’t want to be a post-op mess at my wife’s 10 year high school reunion.  ”This is my husband, he’s the one who’s been bleeding all over himself out of his nose.”  ”Pleased to meet you. What do you do?”

I manage to keep everything together ok for the reunion picnic.  Then we stop by some relatives’ houses and hang out for awhile.  It’s all good times, but by around 6pm I’m getting pretty worn out.  We go home, watch a movie, go to bed.

Today we get up and go to church.  Rebecca always leads the congregation in singing hymns, which means she sits on the stand, facing everyone.  I always sit with her, which is great, because I feel it communicates “see everybody how great a husband I am, sitting with my wife? and also maybe I’m more important than the rest of you because I’m up here and you’re not” to everyone.

But today, sitting up there isn’t so great, because facing a congregation of hundreds of people makes it difficult to hide my wacky new nose that’s suddenly started to bleed.  It seemed to be under control before we left the house, but now it’s not.  Now it’s slow, steady, and unexpected.  And rather than finding a convenient moment to excuse myself and walk up the aisle, past tons of people, calling attention to myself and giving everyone a free ticket to the freak show, I stay up there and tough it out for the full 70 minutes, using almost every square centimeter of the few (three) tissues I have, inconspicuously wiping oozy nose.  At least, I hope it was inconspicuous.  Anyway I’m stubborn, naturally socially avoidant, and my gross nose is my business and none of anyone else’s.  Well, it can be your business too, Readers.  I suppose.

We ditch the last two hours of church and go home.  I take it easy the rest of the day, keeping up with my regimen of saline/polysporin/plenty-of-fluids/etc.

Later in the afternoon I get curious and shine a flashlight up my nose.  There’s definitely something up there but I can’t tell what.

And I think that covers my story up to this point.  I’ll have more material after my follow-up appointment with the doctor this Thursday.  I’m pretty sure that’s when he’s going to take out whatever’s up there.  ”It’s: my wristwatch!” “Thanks, Doc!”

And, as always, thanks to my sensational wife Rebecca, who continues to take great care of me.  So nice and patient.  My instructions say I can’t even bend down to pick up stuff.  Earlier today we were joking about what would happen if she were to leave me alone for an hour or two: she’d come home to find me standing in the middle of the room, starved and naked, the floor littered with objects–important stuff like my box of tissues, saline spray, glasses, etc).  Oh dear.  Oh no.

Finally, just a few words on eating.  It’s difficult to eat without breathing through your nose.  Try it sometime.  In fact, try it right now . . . exhausting, right?  It takes me about three times longer to eat stuff than it did before.  I have to pause to breathe, hold my breath for awhile, etc.  It feels a lot like swimming only with a lot less arm/leg movement.

(for “part three,” click this sentence.)

For the past 3 or 4 years, my nose has been bothering me.  In a nutshell: my nostrils take turns being completely congested.  It’s usually worse at night.  I’ve tried a corticosteroid nasal spray, and it didn’t seem to work.  Breathe Right strips work great, but I’m too stubborn to be dependent on an expensive adhesive for the rest of my life.

My nose has it in for me.  It wants to ruin me.  It is the host and I am the parasite.

I finally went to an ENT a few months ago.  He recommended that I have a nasal septal reconstruction (to straighten my deviated septum), and a turbinate reduction procedure.  I said I’d think about it.  I thought about it for a couple of weeks, and then one night as I was getting into bed with the same stuffy, whistly nose, I decided to do it.  Here’s my story, including potentially gross details.  For those of you who don’t know me and found this blog entry with search terms related to my surgery (I did the same thing and found good information, so hopefully my experiences are helpful to any degree): I am a 28-year old male living in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.

I schedule my procedure for Friday June 12th.  I don’t know what to expect.  I have a pre-op appointment on the afternoon of the 11th.  The doctor looks at my nose again and says he’ll be able to straighten out my septum and get me breathing better.

I have to get to the hospital at 9:30am on the 12th.  Rebecca and I get there right on time.

By the way, when they say that you’ll need someone to take care of you for at least the first 24 hours, they mean it.  Rebecca is fantastic.

They take my vitals and then show us back to a small waiting room and have me change into a hospital gown.  Then we wait for about an hour.  Then I go and lay (lie?) down on a hospital gurney.  They wheel me to the small hallway outside the operating room.  A nurse verifies my information and covers me with warm blankets.  It gets really cold in the operating room.  You’re gonna want those blankets.

My ENT doctor comes and speaks with me for a moment and checks my chart.  The anesthesiologist comes and does the same thing.  Then they wheel me into the operating room and have me scoot over onto the operating table.  The anesthesiologist hooks me up to the IV.  The last thing I remember is one of the nurses holding an oxygen mask to my face as the anesthesia takes over.

The first thing I remember about waking up is saying “Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.”  I don’t know if I just think this to myself or actually say it out loud.

I look at the clock.  12:30.  This means I’ve been out for about an hour and a half.  Out of nowhere a nurse spoons some crushed ice into my mouth.  It’s delicious.  ”Oh, crushed ice, great!” I say.

I’m surprised that I can get air through my nose.  I had read a lot of stuff online about how this surgery often involves the nose getting packed with splints and gauze or something, making it impossible to breathe.  I couldn’t breathe through my nose, and still can’t, but I can get some air through it.

So I’m laying (lying?) there in the gurney, and the only pain I feel is soreness like a scraped knee inside my nose, and a sore throat.  The sore throat is from the tube they put down my throat during the surgery.  Both of these pains are bearable and not a big deal, probably thanks to whatever the pain medicine they have dripping into my left arm.

I have a bundle of gauze under my nostrils to catch the blood.  It’s taped to my face.

The nurse asks me questions to see if  I’m fully awake yet.  She asks me my birthdate and some other question, and I tell her the correct answers.  Sensing that this is a great opportunity to whip out the comedy gold, I then say, “also, my name is Rick Moranis.”  Hilarious!  ”And I’ve starred in such films as . . .”  Dangit, my mind’s blank.  I really need to think of these things ahead of time in order to get the timing right . . . “Honey I Shrunk The Kids.”  No response.  Tough crowd.  ”No, just kidding, I’m not Rick Moranis.”  Another spoonful of ice goes into my mouth.

The doctor pokes his head in and gives me a wave.  He says it went well.

They give me a lortab.

Still on a gurney, they wheel me into a recovery room.  Rebecca walks in at the same time.  ”Hey, I know her,” I say.

I take a second lortab, and they advise me to try to sleep.  I’m convinced that I’m not going to be able to sleep because I’m uncomfortable on the gurney.  I’m also convinced that I’ve only been in this room for half an hour when they finally come to put me in a wheelchair and escort me out to the parking lot.  I get in the car and see that it’s 2:45pm.  Wow, two hours.  So it turns out that I probably got some sleep after all.

Rebecca drives us to Wal-Mart.  I wait in the car while she picks up my lortab, antibiotics, and a Caribbean Passion from Jamba Juice.

We get home.  Rebecca has to help me walk to the front door.  I’m still wearing my funny-looking gauze mustache.  I’ll wear one for the next 20 hours.

I drink a little water and take a nap.  I wake up about an hour later, exit the bedroom, and announce that I feel great.  I drink water, drink my Jamba Juice, play on the computer, and watch a little TV.  Then I throw up three times in the bathroom.  So much for ‘feeling great.’  According to the surgery infosheet they gave me, this is typical.  Stomachs do not agree with old blood.  I am a believer.

I feel much better after the vomiting.  I take a series of naps the rest of the afternoon.  I’m not in much pain.  The worst pain is probably in my throat.  As long as I don’t touch my nose or move it funny, I’m fine.

I get up around six or eight in the PM and eat some crackers, finish my Jamba Juice, and spray saline into my nostrils–every hour.  I’m still sporting the mustache gauze, changing it as needed.  Rebecca continues to take really great care of me for the rest of the day.  She’s terrific, isn’t she folks?

To be honest, besides the clotted blood, I don’t know what exactly is up my nose right now.  I think there are splints and some packing.  I don’t know much about what splints and packing are/are made of/look like.  All I know is that whatever’s going on up there is uncomfortable.  I have my post-op appointment this Thursday.  I think that’s when the doctor is going to take out whatever is up there.  It’s probably a bunch of colorful handkerchiefs all tied together.  ”Oooh, Look what we have here!” he’ll say.

I’ll cover my sleeping and second-day experiences in my next post.

(For “part two,” click this sentence.)

Rhinoplasty Los Angeles can be performed to improve the form of the nose and/ or  improve breathing.  Nose surgery Los Angeles to improve nasal airway obstruction is considered medically necessary and therefore will be covered by most medical insurances. These patients typically  suffer from a nasal airway obstruction and have evidence of obstruction such as a deviated septum Los Angeles and / or enlarged turbinates. Rhinoplasty performed for aesthetic purposes is not covered by medical insurances but correction of nasal deformities due to trauma may be covered.  A plastic surgeon Los Angeles will first discuss the patients sympotms and examine the nose to determine if the patients has evidence of nasal airway obstruction which can be surgically treated.   Nasal airway correction is frequently combined with cosmetic rhinoplasty beverly hills .

Evening Sweeties

 If you are familiar with Nightly Candy it is  evident that I get a real KICK from the celebrity antics of Jennifer Aniston! 

It’s almost still all a dream! One minute I was frying and egg with toast and the next minute I received a call from the Aniston Camp requesting a sit down interview with Nightly Candy!

I prepared myself for dealing with a droll actress with a very apparent addiction to prescription medication. I’m sure glad I prepped myself for the worst because she couldn’t have been more off her rocker. I’ve heard coming down off these meds can really screw with your brain. It totally showed.

 I have a feeling she will be stopping by again soon. 

Stay Tuned for More Memorable Maniston Moments

Night Night

I was going to post a picture, but past experiences in humiliation resulted in some teasing, so I’ll save the picture for people who really know her. I don’t mind humiliating Christy in front of family and close friends.

Surgery went relatively well, if longer than expected. It turns out that in addition to straightening out her schnoz, Dr. T removed her adenoids which were the size of walnuts and thus he couldn’t “suck them out of her nose” and had to go in the old way. I didn’t ask what the old way was because he went into detail about other gross and disgusting things and all I heard was “sore throat” and ice cream. She liked the idea of ice cream.

Anyway, she spent the day recovering nicely, parked in front of the TV, terrified of sneezing. Finally, she sneezed, the world didn’t end, but the dog looks at her suspiciously.

In other news, Jonathan started physical therapy and his knee is healing nicely.

I went for another followup appointment with the ENT on my sinus blockages.  He has decided that he would like to do surgery…unblock my sinuses by breaking the bone and enlarging the holes (sounds wonderful, huh?!)  Actually the bone he will break is about as thick as an egg shell (now it doesn’t sound as bad, huh?)  While he does this, he will also correct my deviated septum (he cannot access my sinus without doing this apparently, plus it will help to keep me from having to have another surgery later, hopefully).  Anyway, I have my surgery the first week of December on the 4th, so until then I can learn more about it.  So far I know it will be endoscopic and an outpatient surgery.  I will have anesthesia, so Doc is going to perform my anesthesia preassessment ( I think that will save us a little money.)  Knowing him, he will also handpick (or try to) my anesthesiologist.  

Anyway, I thought I would update you all

Im doing well thus far though. Irrigating sucks, I’m crusted with blood, but I get short bouts of energy and am hopefully able to stay off the pain pills.

I’m mostly worried about my wonderful friend Jill who is down in Alabama near the beaches. Hopefully all will be fine and at least she’s monitoring the situation with Gustav.

OK, time for a nap and then I’m gonna watch the movie Stop Loss.