I couldn’t see all of the carving into my face, but I could hear everything. It’s so comforting when you hear your surgeon say, “Can you pass me the larger pair of scissors?” Yes, there was a lot of tool changing, and these tools were obviously extremely sharp objects. I could hear the snip snip snip of those scissors. Even though I’m fairly deaf due to my iPod obsession, the cutting was right next to my ear; it was kind of impossible to tune out. I kept thinking, Really?! My face is not a piece of fabric…
Then there was the burning of my skin. I could smell that. Yes, apparently they burn you too. Thanks for the warning. I later learned it’s called cautery and is used to coagulate the blood (stop the bleeding). The burning of my face smelled profusely awesome.
Then there was the pulling. Pulling my skin to stretch to see if maybe there was a chance they didn’t have to remove from behind my ear, or more likely just to see how far it would go. Even with novocaine, I could feel that. And the blood…oh, the blood. I could feel that pouring down the back of my neck like hot lava. Novocaine just wasn’t enough.
My dad had to leave after an hour because he had to go operate on one of his patients. After that, they gave me a shot of demerol. That helped a little when they dove into the back of my ear. More cutting. I could still feel the blood.
The best part was, all the doctors and attendees were joking and gossiping the whole time about other surgeons and how much money the other guys made and what cars they drove. All I could think was, Are you paying attention to my face? It was just business as usual for them. In a weird way, I think this chatter may have relaxed me a bit.
More cutting and pulling and then finally, sewing. More blood pouring down my neck. I just don’t understand why I never get the good drugs or get to be put to sleep. I have a very high tolerance for pain and an even higher one for painkillers. At the time, I thought, “I might die of cancer, can I please be knocked out for this??”
To be continued…