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CHAPTER 2: Flight to a facelift
Let me start by saying that it takes determination,
money and a good sense of who you are to travel alone for surgery.
I had found my doctor through Airliftinc, whose owner prescribed
several sets of lab tests. The consensus was that I needed iron badly,
so off I went to build my body to endure the travel, surgery and
recovery. As the flight approached, I was exercising, eating well
and taking iron religiously. I was at the top of my game physically.
What I was not prepared for was a phone call three
days before from Beverly, an RN and owner of Airliftinc, saying that Dr Jose
GS wanted me to have one more CBC before I left – just to be on the safe
side. I broke out into a sweat as I went to the emergency medical centre for
the one stick that would send me home or to Mexico.
The hours went by as I waited from three in the
afternoon until just short of 9 in the evening when an email arrived from Beverly. "The
fax is coming. Call me." This was it, and after I got off the phone with
her and she gave me the news, I found myself fast-forwarded to the airport
boarding for Mexico. But my anxiety didn't diminish on board. In my nervousness
I pulled
my carry-on bag out from my exit row seat only to find out that little cable
I pushed apart was the audio for Spiderman. I was lucky they didn't seat
me near the cockpit. I was anxious and could have caused some serious damage
had I not been so preoccupied with nerves and wondering what was ahead of me
besides four hours, a snack and a bottle of water.
After a turbulent flight, seeing the "Welcome to
Mexico" sign was a relief. I bravely approached Customs with my bags, and
when the customs officer asked me, "Are you here for business or pleasure?" it
was hard for me to really put it into a category but I went with the simple, "I
am in Mexico for pleasure." He stamped my passport and said to have a
good time. I was in Mexico.
Dragging my one carry-on and my suitcase
on wheels, my heart pounded as I looked for a sign – a real sign that
said, "Victoria,
I am your taxi driver and your guide, José." As the Arrivals numbers
started to settle down, I saw my name on a cardboard sign, "Victoria".
"José," I yelled. "I am Victoria,
José!"
He had a smile that put my fears to rest. I regained
control of my faculties. It was a humid, hot day, but I had arrived for the
biggest and boldest experience of my life. I was two days away from a facelift.
"Let's get you settled," José said.
And off he went into the very busy streets as the cardboard Victoria was resting
in the back seat. I was in Guadalajara.
CHAPTER 1:
ADVENTURES IN FACELIFTING
CHAPTER 2: FLIGHT TO A
FACELIFT
CHAPTER 3: YOUR FACELIFT
IS WAITING FOR YOU
CHAPTER 4: IN THE OPERATING
THEATRE
CHAPTER 5: THE HOME STRETCH
CHAPTER 6: SIX MONTHS
POST-OP
CHAPTER 7: ONE YEAR
LATER
GO BACK
TO BODY LANGUAGE WEB
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