No, really. It's true. My particular procedure is called a septoplasty, aka the fixing of a deviated septum. This is when your nasal passages are crooked, not letting air pass through the right way. It was a problem I'd known about for years, and it had finally reached a point, with constant sinus pressure and pain, that multiple ENTs (ear, nose, and throat doctors) recommended the surgery. In addition, I had a turbinate reduction, in which my turbinates were reduced (as far as I know) to improve my ability to breathe.
Which, it turns out, is a really important part of staying alive.
The surgery was a successful one. I left the hospital woozy, nauseated, and generally bewildered, doing things that I never, ever do, like taking selfies:
I was sent home with a roll of gauze like you see in the photo and had to change my gauze "mustache" every 45 minutes to an hour, because my nose kept bleeding throughout the day and kept saturating the gauze, giving me red mustaches.
Good times, huh?
To make a long story even longer, recuperation went about like I was told it would be. In some ways. I had a few sleepless nights. I ate only a little bit and only soft foods for a week, losing 14 pounds total that week. I missed about about six days of work. But after a couple of weeks of a stuffy nose, I started to realize that I was actually, truly breathing better and that the surgery had done me a lot of good.
In other ways, recuperation was nothing like I could have possibly imagined. My throat was sore for weeks due to the tube that had been inserted for surgery, as I was told might happen, except it continued for additional weeks, which became months. As one prone to depression and anxiety, those issues were affected to a great deal. My brother graciously answered the phone and drove me to the E.R. at 3 a.m. and stayed there with me till 5 a.m. on one troublesome night. Another brother drove me to a different ENT for an emergency visit to have my nose splints removed a day earlier than planned when I learned my surgeon was out of town and couldn't do it right then. In fact, multiple family members stepped up and either let me vent what I was going through or sat with me to give me moral support or priesthood blessings. My sleeping habits were interrupted for a number of weeks, and other issues, such as work, improv, social life, etc., were thrown topsy-turvy for a time. Until tonight, I have also not posted an actual blog post (other than photos of family goings-on and whatnot) for nearly three months for these same reasons.
Without boring you with any of the other sordid details, I had a tough time. A much tougher time than I expected. It really put me through the ringer in ways I never imagined. This is not to dissuade anyone out there contemplating going through a septoplasty procedure for yourself, because it has done a lot of good for my sinuses and my breathing, as I was told it would, and most people who undergo this surgery do not go through the same complications I have faced. I also don't pretend that my difficult few months are or were any more difficult than anyone else's challenges or trials over the same period of time, only that they were quite difficult for me.
Upon my fifth or sixth follow-up visit to my surgeon, he commented: "I've never seen any of my patients go through this before" (reassuring, huh?). He also said, "You've really been through it these few months, haven't you?" After these six (or seven?) visits, consulting with and getting a second opinion from another ENT, as well, the good news is that we finally (knock on wood!) seem to have nailed the problem, and I've been feeling much better lately.
I don't know if the feeling will continue, but I am optimistic it will. All told, I am figuring out this mortal life thing one day at a time, just like the rest of you. I read something the other day in which an LDS general authority (I forget which one) compared life to an ocean wave; that it has highs and lows, and the hard times (the "lows") eventually pass.
A life lesson I've been reminded of multiple times these past several weeks has been that everyone is going through something tough. Often, these challenges are unseen or unspoken. The tough times test us to the very core. They test us physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and in every other way, shape, and form. And yet, how very reassuring it is that the Savior descended below all and knows how we feel and can comfort and guide us through His Holy Spirit. If these lessons are not lost on us, we gain empathy and sympathy for those around us carrying heavy burdens and pick up some glimpse into what He feels for us as the Savior of all.
I've "ponderized" and have written down several impressions that have occurred to me over the last little while, and I hope to give this blogging thing another try and may just share a few of these ideas with you. I also plan to be a bit more open in the future on my struggles with both depression/anxiety/OCD (they're all interrelated in one big ball of goo), as well as chronic pain, in the hopes that it will both give me an outlet for these issues and also give hope to others who may be going through similar challenges. Stay tuned.
As Tom Hanks's character says in Cast Away, "Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide will bring?"
As Tom Hanks's character says in Cast Away, "Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide will bring?"
I pray I may never take another sunrise for granted. Each and every one is a wonderful blessing, come rain or shine.
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