Elephant (Wo)man

As some of you may know, I went in for Orthognathic Surgery this past Tuesday...all I have to say, is that it has been my best (and therefore only) experience with totally invasive, mind-numbingly painful, terrible, awful, no-good, very bad surgery. I'm sure that there are plenty of things that are worse, such as getting your foot stuck in a bear trap or having a pack of small chihuahuas nibble off each of your fingers one by one. But trust me, this was no cake walk. I'm sure it's up there with childbirth and Chinese water torture.


This has been one of the worst experiences of my life...and sadly enough, it is all voluntary. There was no one that forced me into the hospital bed and held me down against my will. No, I showed up, early mind you, and eagerly awaited for the doctor to shred my delicate mouth skin with an exacto knife and break my bones and then wire my mouth shut so that I had to spend the whole week at home watching food network in absolute agony. What I wouldn't give for a chicken finger right now!


Obviously, I knew that they weren't going to use a magical surgery wand that they wave over your face, spreading pixie dust and perfection everywhere (if they do, I want the patent). I just didn't know that it was going to be this damn uncomfortable. This hurts, that's right, this hurts a lot and I'm not afraid to say it. Moving on...


I had an interior cross bite with an under bite, as well. See exhibit A below...






My lower jaw was offset to the left and my teeth criss-crossed. My bottom jaw protruded quite a bit and my upper jaw was very narrow. I have been told from the age of 6 or 7 that I would need to have surgery, but honestly it never bothered me. I liked the way I looked and only considered it after I got braces. The jaw pain and teeth grinding increased. I was going through a bite guard almost every month. Plus, I was told that if I were to get my braces off, then my teeth would just go back to the way they were because none of my jaw problems could be fixed without surgery.

This was a self portrait taken the night before the surgery. I'm not exaggerating the cross bite, but I'm not trying to hide it at all in this pic. Normally in pictures, I would slightly open my mouth and point my chin down to correct it.



Anyway, like I said I showed up to the hospital at 6 am. Like a naive little baby bird, I answered all the questions with a smile on my face and hope in my voice. (see below)

I met with several nurses and the anesthesiologist and finally my surgeon came in to go over any last minute questions. Of course, I couldn't think of any on the spot (my best advice: write down every question or concern and keep an on-going list to ask your surgeon). Then, they took my underwear (a girl feels very vulnerable without her underwear), hooked me up to a bunch of machines, shot some stuff that they jokingly called a margarita into the tube and whisked me into the OR. I remember lights and people talking to me and sticking things to me. Luckily, I was out before they put the catheter in (from what I have heard, that's "the worst part"). I call bullshit...

I woke up five hours later with someone else messing with me. I don't think I was supposed to be awake yet. They took out the catheter, which just felt like being hit "down there" with a giant rubber band. Don't get me wrong, it hurt, but it was not and definitely hasn't been the "worst part." At that point, I think they put me back under and I woke up again in a surprisingly cozy hospital room feeling quite lovely. See Below...

Not only did I look like a beast, I started acting like one too. I was sooooo hot (literally and figuratively, as you can see). The nurse had put little booties on me legs that were squeezing me repeatedly and like five blankets. I was still coming out of the meds, but I knew I didn't like what was going on. So, I started screaming unintelligible words (unintelligible to them at least, I felt I was being very clear indeed) and kicking my legs violently. My mom brought me a beautifully blinged out magna doodle that my friend Amber made for me and I wrote hot and pain. They took off those damn booties and basically stripped me down, gave me a shot of something fabulous and I think I was out shortly there after. Until they made me try to eat...

Shortly after which, I needed this...

Because I projectile vomited blood everywhere (including on my magna doodle). They had given me a little dentist sucky tube thing and I just used it like a vacuum to clean myself and most everything else up. Apparently, a lot of blood had drained into my stomach during surgery and the surgeon couldn't get a tube down my throat to suck it out. But I do feel the affects of said tube to this day. My throat constantly hurts, I blame the tube.

One week and lots of drugs later, here I sit about to go to my 1st follow-up appointment. Unfortunately, I fear that the worst is still to come. I loathe this little piece of plastic evilness that they have affixed to my teeth. It is a constant source of pain. Not to mention the swelling which, minus the lip plumping effects that I would have eagerly bought by the tube, makes my head feel like it is constantly expanding until one day it will just pop like an over-boiled egg.

I attempted to go to Walmart the other night and people just stared like I was Quasimodo. I did go at 3 am, which is a time that I suspect several Quasimodos would be tromping the aisles of Walmart...maybe that was the confusion. Anyway...

But now I must leave you, for I have sufficiently covered the key board in drool because my lips are numb and not as saliva-retentive as they once were. I will keep you updated on my progress. Thanks again to everyone who sent me cards and flowers and gifts and support and messages. That is one thing that really makes this whole ordeal more bearable.