DEAR VICE – NOSE JOB

Dear Vice,
Guess what? I just got a nose job! For free! Yeah, that’s right. I got £5000 worth of cosmetic surgery done courtesy of the National Health Service. Rad, right? Well, it sure doesn’t feel so rad right now. I’ve got blood and snot and pus weeping from my nostrils. I’ve got two black eyes and my face is all swollen up with bodily fluids that seem to be pooling in my cheeks. Plus, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to look like for the rest of my life.

Actually, the surgery wasn’t totally cosmetic. I did seriously need it. You see, I had an acutely deviated septum. Before you ask: No, it wasn’t caused by cocaine. It was caused by the middle wall dividing my nostril growing at a skewwy angle, totally shutting off one nostril. The breathing problems this caused were gradually getting worse and so a specialist doctor recommended that I have a corrective surgery known as septoplasty. Now, because this procedure already involves taking a knife to the nose, they also offered to fix the bump on my honker while they were at it. So not only was I going to get my breathing problem fixed, they were also going to improve the appearance of my nose. I was like, “Hey!” [pumping fists]

They did warn me about some possible adverse outcomes. For instance, my septum might not take to the surgery and instead just totally collapse and leave me with a boxer’s nose. Also, they said that cosmetic surgery does not always have the desired outcome and I might end up on the Michael Jackson side of looking weird. However, they finished by telling me that this was one of the most common operations they do and usually turns out fine. Since they weren’t doing anything major inside my shnoz, it would be a doddle.

Anyways, here’s what I look like three days after the surgery. I can only drink through
a straw. Chewing solid food feels like it’s grinding raw nasal
bones. It’s really uncomfortable and painful. I’m eating fistfuls of painkillers and antibiotics.

They had to break my nose during the procedure. I’ve got a plaster cast taped to the middle of my face. I’ve also got stitches inside and around my nostrils. I’ve got blood-red bags under my eyes. My whole face is a yellow bruise.

By this point though I’ve stopped swallowing blood and the fluids dribbling from my nose have
finally subsided. Now I’m left picking at the bloodclots encrusting my
nostrils, being very careful not to rip out the stitches.

My girlfriend has been really nice to me. She’s been buying me grapes and painkillers and DVDs to watch while I lie in bed recovering. And even though my car-crash visage is probably the least sexy thing in the world ever, she gave me a blowjob last night. What a sport!

In four days I have to go back to hospital to get the cast and the stitches removed from my nose. Only then will I be able to see what I’m going to look like.

Stay tuned. I’ll send more pictures later if I don’t fall into a coma or something (ONLY JOKING!! LOL!!!)

UPDATE:
I awoke at 5AM terrified to find my nose cast had fallen off. In panic I patted the duvet cover for blood. Phew! I wasn’t bleeding. I then slowly reached up and touched my nose. It felt different, like I was touching
somebody else’s face. I jumped up, turned on the light and blearily peered into the mirror… OMFG.

UPDATE: Going to the hospital
Today I have to attend an appointment at the hospital so that the doctor can check everything is OK. But I really do not want to go outside. I’ve been cooped up in my bedroom for over 200 hours. Seven plus days of mostly solitary confinement has left me more than a little agoraphobic.

Walking down the street was petrifying. I was super self-conscious about my face, checking out every nose I passed and obsessing about whether they were noticing mine. Also, I was acutely aware of other people not entering my personal space in case they accidentally bumped into my wounded shnoz. Consumed by this internal dialogue, I was completely oblivious to a massive puddle in the road and an on-coming bus about to speed into it. The resultant splash was like a tsunami on the sidewalk, drenching this Cyrano de Bergerac from head to foot. Wiping the mucky water off my face and clothes put a dampener on any feelings of insecurity.

UPDATE: The appointment
When I arrive at the clinic the doctor is psyched to see my nose. He’s like a gardener who has secateured a hedge and is now standing back to admire his pruning. He calls in all of his nose doctor buddies and students to show off his handiwork.

He tells me about the operation and it makes pretty gruesome listening. He describes how they sliced the bit of flesh between the nostrils and pulled back the skin covering the nose to completely expose the cartilage and flesh underneath. As well as straightening the septum, he removed the hump and raised the tip. It still feels very sore and very swollen. The doctor says it will take at least six months for the swelling to calm down and up to a year for my breathing to improve.

UPDATE: The unveiling
I am SO looking forward to having this conversation a bazillion times:
Them: “Hey, you look different.”
Me: “Yeah.”
Them: “What is it? Your nose?”
Me: “Yeah. I had an operation.”
Them: “Wow!” (code for: “You coke-faced scumbag.”)
Me: “It was to fix my breathing.”
Them: “Oh… Yeah… Riiight.”

UPDATE: Picking
My nostrils feel smaller. I can’t pick my nose with as much access as I did before. It’s annoying because I have something lodged up my left nostril. I don’t know if it’s dried mucus or cartilage or scar tissue or what. I tried tweasering it out, but it will not budge. Continued tugging only made it start bleeding. I’m just going to leave it in there.

UPDATE: Before & After
I’m slowly coming to terms with my new nose. I look different and it feels very strange. It’s like I killed my old self. The face I used to have has died. That person no longer exists. I was bored of his ugly mug anyway. Welcome to the new me. A new and improved version. Me 2.0.

What are my old friends going to say? Will they like the new me? What about the new people I meet? Do I tell them about the old me? Or do I hide him away in the attic like an unwanted, retarded child.

Truth be told, I kind of miss the hump in my nose. It had character. And sometimes I feel like it’s still there, a bit like those people who have had a limb amputated but still sense its presence.

—————-