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CHAPTER 5: The home stretch
I was on auto pilot. My daily routine was breakfast, shower, swelling,
sleep, TV, and eating. Days merged seamlessly, but discomfort gave
me a painful time reference.
The fat injections caused the most pain. I had the fat
under my buccal fat pads injected directly into the muscle, the fat in the nasolabial
folds, and my lips which made Mick Jagger look like an amateur in the best and
fullest of my full lip-measuring sticks. Did I look good? Did I look better?
I looked like death warmed over. But each day there was a little less swelling,
a little less pain. It did help that I loved where I was staying. I had no urge
to leave my room. My cozy villa was my sanctuary. Looking like the Mummy, I had
no reason to want to be seen. It rained heavily and constantly. I had never experienced
rain like this before. This was Mexico in the rainy season.
Today would be my last visit to the doctor to see
whether I could go home and what I looked like under the dressings. José picked
me up and I was seen immediately at the clinic. Dr Isabella and a nurse took
off
my dressing. I finally took a look into a mirror.
I was mortified. I was horrid — not bruised,
but swollen. Is this the face I was going home with? What if it stayed like this?
I was anxious and, as Dr José looked at me and smiled, he asked if I wanted
to stay one more day? I asked if it was really necessary. “No, but if you
are too weak it is up to you.” He said everything looked good to him.
“But I will look better won’t I?"
“You are healing. You will be healing up to
a year depending on your body and if you take care not to rush recovery. Your
results will change and change over time.”
So… now I was morphing.
Now the bottom-line: the cost. We went into his
office, and he gave me a slip of paper with a product to buy for healing scar
tissue he swore by and a very affordable bill. As I left I asked. “What
about my nose?" He answered: “In six months, we shall see.”
With a very warm smile we all said our adios’s.
I went to the villa with José to pack, call home, and settle up my tab.
There was a knock at my door. The women at the villa sent me my favourite dish
of my stay in Mexico — spaghetti and desserts -— with a note that “this
was one of them”.
Sunday
Exactly two weeks after I had arrived at the airport I was leaving. I said
my goodbyes to the staff and to José. I felt like I was leaving an experience
that changed me outside and inside. As I lined up at customs, a little girl
asked me if I was hurt. I told her mom that I had some surgery to make my face
look like it did a few years ago, for I wanted to look less tired. She smiled: “Why,
you look 35.”
I thought, I’ll take that gladly! I only wish it were so, but I will file
that under from “the mouths of babes” moments.
On the flight home to Chicago I was watching a
movie and thinking how far I had come — not in travel but this whole quest
for turning back the clock, or at least holding it back for a minute or two.
We set down in Chicago. As I saw the expression on my husband’s face,
I knew it was the right way to do it, for even with just my head garment and
swelling, he was visibly shaken, not stirred.
When I was less battered-looking, I showed him what he missed in these pics
I have posted, and that’s all he cared to see.
It is hard to heal in front of people who think
a facelift is unnecessary, and than watch to see if, from this cocoon, a butterfly
will emerge. It is now three months post-op, and I like what I see. I see me,
but me the way I used to look in pictures — not 20 years ago, but fresh
and natural.
Will I get back? Was it worth it? Yes and yes!
Is it for everyone? No. I am proof that, for this girl from the USA, I got my
money’s worth. Until then, do it or don't, but do your homework whether
you have it done in Ohio or abroad. Most important — do it for you!
I guess I have changed. Today, a freshly cut and
coloured post-op gal who has gone from a medium brunette with a little grey to
a red head with attitude to boot!
I am back to my regular life. I occasionally leave
the mirror after checking that my scars are fading and whether there are any
new changes since my facelift. The funny thing is that people will say things
like, “You look rested.” Or they’ll ask if I have lost weight
while trying to figure out how I have changed? The hardest part was thinking
that only a few family members knew about it, until I had a family fundraiser
to attend. My coming-out party, as it were. The only ones who seemed not to know
were the restaurant staff! I was mortified, but that’s life and the price
you pay when you enter into this very private sector. You lose your privacy but
you deal with it. Actually, the comments have been quite kind and supportive.
So, as I watch this face settle and hope to be
a scarless wonder, time will tell. I will check back with you all in another
three months to tell you how it is going. This report has been a labour of love
and I hope in some small way that you are a little more informed of your options,
and that you enjoyed reading my story. Whether you are from Ohio or going to
Guadalajara, remember to research, research and talk to patients about your chosen
doctor. Do it for one reason only. Do it for you! Adios, my friends, it has truly
been a trip!
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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