On Friday, when the packing material was removed from my nose (in a fascinating moment that I won't describe out of deference to the reader), I still looked very strange. The swelling hadn't gone down much at all by the end of the day. In fact, it had spread to my upper lip, so that I had not just an enormous beak but a mouth that looked like a cartoonist's interpretation of a feminine smile.

But the same ears, eyes, hairline and jaw I always carry around.

Saturday I was halfway back, and went into Attila the Hub's office to show off my nose—only somewhat oversized by then. "Wow," he told me. "I haven't seen you in a while." I hadn't, either.

On Sunday I looked like myself, which was delightful. At that point I admitted that I'd been afraid something might go terribly wrong, and I'd always look like the product of a funhouse mirror.

Now I still have to wear the bandage on my face, but I can take it off for as much as an hour at a time, and even breathe through The Organ In Question a little bit.

I can see people's eyes pivot to the bandage, and then away as they realize it isn't polite to stare. A woman went up to me to say hello today, and just as I was wondering whether I knew her, she explained "I've been there." Ah, yes. It was that gauze chic look I was sporting. We're sisters in facelessness.

"Deviated septum?" I asked.

"And other breathing problems," she told me.

"I get the stints taken out of my nose this coming Friday," I remarked.

"It'll be great then. That's when you can really start breathing out of it."

Good to know. Until then, I've instructed my husband to call me Mistress Mucus. He likes that. "I'm out to do errands, Mistress M. See you later," he'll call over his shoulder on his way out the door.

I'm just so lucky to have had the opportunity for a procedure like this. I'm grateful, and happy to be living in a time and place where these problems can be fixed.

And grateful to my husband, who took a crappy union job last year that got me back onto the Luxurious Health Plan long enough to take care of my dainty (but apparenly malformed) schnoz.

Now go eat something. Enjoy the whole set of flavors, including those you need a sense of smell to perceive.

I'll be there soon.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:40 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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