Facial Awareness - Part III
The next phase of recovery was sleep, more sleep, crying a lot and copious amounts of painkillers.
Despite my initial thoughts about retaining independence and
staying at my own flat, I couldn’t have managed on my own. I have since
realised how lucky I am to have such an amazingly wonderful mum. She was
patient, loving, attentive, kind and so unbelievably calm throughout the whole
thing. No matter how stratospherically wild my fears got, she soothed them and
helped me to see sense.
Her duties included warming up hot water bottles, reminding me that this would pass,
bringing me flowers, giving me hugs, laughing at my dramatic nonsensical ramblings, endlessly making me soup and smoothies…
and crucially, helping me to take my medication.
I was sent packing from the hospital with liquid ibuprofen
and soluble paracetamol which is a far cry from morphine. I upped my own
medication to soluble cocodomol, which tasted as bad as you might imagine. My mum made it as comical as she could and always ended up laughing at my
child-like groaning and moaning every time the drug-fest came around. I
would have taken pills instead to soften this torment but my swollen
mouth would not allow such frivolity. Much as I protested, she kept me topped
up with medication on a strict schedule and even had the audacity to laugh at
me as I sullenly inspected each and every mouthful. Bless her.
If nothing else, I thought "Maybe I'll get some happy woozy doped-up
feelings from the codeine." I was wrong. My body laughs in the face of
codeine-based medication and so my limited foray into the world of prescription
painkillers ended abruptly.
Actually, the pain was the least of my worries. The funny
thing about this experience is that I found the side effects to be much worse than the pain.
Physically:
- The swelling was jovial to look at (think hamster/moomin) but meant I couldn’t move much of my face at all.
- I cried every time I saw someone for the first time when I caught the look of shock in their face at my swollen car-crashly appearance.
- My sense of taste and smell was greatly enhanced… which meant nothing smelled or tasted good. In fact, normal smells like washing powder had me recoiling in horror.
- Random violent attacks of Pins & needles were a common occurrence in my face… a very odd sensation.
- I only had enough energy to drink half a cup of soup and a smoothie in a whole day. This was quite good in terms of rapid weight loss but not good in terms of worrying my poor mum who would try to ‘up-sell’ soup and smoothies to me all day. Bless her.
- My face was numb in several places so i couldn't tell if i had dribbled the little food i was eating, on my face.
- Sitting up to sleep = not much sleep.
- My nose had taken on epic proportions through the swelling… and was a completely different shape. This troubled me greatly.
- I couldn’t talk properly with my inflexible swelling and my newly shaped mouth. People tried to understand my slavering mumbles but often looked a bit confused.
- Stiches inside my mouth were fine in principle but brushing them wasn't pleasant...
- I couldn't open my mouth more than a centimetre which was interesting when made to laugh... or indeed, yawn.
- My brace began rubbing on different areas of my mouth as the shape was all changed = Ulcer city.
- My nose was still bleeding (for a day or two)… and did I mention there was a never ending supply of saliva trying to trickle out of my mouth and embarrass/degrade me further?
Luckily, this phase only lasted about a week… and in that week huge
leaps and bounds were taken on the road to recovery.
The swelling reduced so
quickly that it was almost visible on a daily basis. By week 2 of recovery I
had progressed to feeding myself, not dribbling and not crying every time I
saw someone.
After 10 days with the mothership, I decided I was OK to go home
to my flat again and regain my independence… much to my mums dismay. She was
quite enjoying spending time together and looking after me but, true to form,
she did her job a little too well and I was lots better. That and I think I may
have the accelerated healing ability of Wolverine from X-Men - It’s
scientifically unproven as yet, but I have my suspicions.
As for emotionally…well… things were as different on the
inside as they were on the outside. I was unsure of myself and my place in the
world since I didn’t feel like me.
I didn’t want to talk about it publicly or
wallow in private and as someone not well known for my patience, I took the
matter of getting back to ‘normal’ very seriously. I went to counselling
sessions, I did some NLP/hypnosis work with my friend Mary and I relied heavily
on love, patience and support from my beautiful set of friends and my amazing
family. All of these things really helped me to focus on getting better and it
is a humbling experience to feel that kind of support from all around the
world. If I haven’t said it already… Thank you.
Counselling began with me not feeling like I recognised
myself and the resulting feelings of confusion were overwhelming at times. I
had a few good sessions but found myself increasingly talking about other
things unrelated to my operation.
The counselling ended with me realising lots
of other things about my innermost beliefs, desires and what is holding me
back. I only went to a few sessions but what I really got out of it was some
time to reflect on myself and my feelings. Not something we do enough of, I
don’t think. This heightened self-awareness allowed me to begin the journey of
dealing with some unwelcome ideas and limiting beliefs lodged within my
subconscious.
The scariest thing about changing your face is that there is no-where to hide. In order to participate in society, you have to get out there and interact with your new look on full display. Or at least, that seemed preferable to holing myself up in a cave and never being seen again.
In truth, other people’s reactions was one of the most difficult things I had to face (pardon the pun!) throughout my journey. The general reactions were as follows:
- Some didn’t recognise me at all and walked past me until I grabbed them and start talking
- Some people just stared at me confused about what was different
- Some people got really emotional about it – genuine tears were shed. I was touched that they cared so much and probably welled up too.
- Some people just looked genuinely delighted and could visualise the final result. I was annoyed that they had the ability to do this because I was so caught up in it that I was unsure if I could even decipher the way I looked day to day
- One person gasped and pointed at me with a shocked expression for an extended period until I was so embarrassed that I actually walked away, mumbling something about speak to them later.
- Some people just kept cool and acted like nothing had really changed which is my favourite reaction because it comforted me that people thought I looked like ‘me’.
What I can tell you definitively (for me in this situation)
is… the worst thing people can say when you’re struggling to cope with a new
identity, is to tell you how different you look and that they hardly recognise
you. I found this incredibly scary and disheartening when I desperately didn’t
want to look different. However, as the weeks passed and I got increasingly
comfortable with the changes, it became a lot easier to cope with.
To be fair,
I was pretty good at hiding the fact that this upset me as I know that everyone
i spoke to and met had the absolute best of intentions at heart. Now, other people's reactions don’t bother me in the
least.
Along the way, there were a few moments of clarity which
shocked me and gave me the push I needed to accept the changes in my appearance
and move on with other things that I needed to unearth. Someone asked me if I
had given myself permission to like my new face which was like a bolt out of
the blue. Had I given myself permission? I didn’t know. Funny how something
which seems quite specific and physical can have such a profound effect on the
rest of your well-being.
This operation has been absolutely for the better, in all
ways. First and foremost, I’m physically healthier because they’ve corrected my
bite. Secondly, I look better; I’m a more confident, more self-aware version of
myself. I’ve grown closer to friends and family, taken a few steps forward in
terms of understanding myself and I’ve let down a few barriers which were
holding me back. Yes, it was miserable. Yes, it was tough. Yes, it was
confusing and terrifying. Yes, I struggled… but it wasn’t forever, and
I had heaps of help.I guess that is reason enough to place this firmly in the category of ‘the best decisions I have ever made’... along with tipping a potty with some wee in it on my younger sister's head at the age of 10, going through a Beatlemania phase in the mid 90's aged 13, mastering the Carlton Dance and learning all the words to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air rap.
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