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Long time no post! That's at least partly because my sleep was absolute ass for most of this week, thanks to a too-soft hotel mattress, and misguided attempts to sleep elevated on hotel pillows.
But! As of late last night I'm home. Seldom have I been so glad to see my son, who picked me up at the airport and of course talked about the news. Happiness.
To catch you all up, on Monday was my first post-op appountment: bandages off, staples out. That left the cast on my nose and splints still in my nose, so still no breathing through my nose, which turned out to be the single hardest aspect of this whole process.
What the hell did I do on Tuesday? Oh yeah: I walked to Dark Garden corsets because I was under orders to walk, but they were closed. That may be for the best because a) those people are very good at extracting money from me, and b) trying on corsets is surely against the Sculptor's instructions at this point. But that block of Linden is itself really nice, with some cool street art and hanging lanterns.
I'm proud of myself for making it to Golden Gate Park and Amoeba Music on Wednesday. When I'm in San Francisco I love to go to the Tree Fern Dell and pretend to be a dinosaur. This time, a pelican flew overhead for added realism.
Thing I deliberately blew off: a tour of SomaFM, which can be arranged. I think it would have been too long a walk to that part of the Mission, and if I didn't walk, there wasn't nearly as much point.
Thursday was high stress and stupid: Alaska Airlines had moved my flight an hour earlier, making it questionable whether I could keep my original second post-op appointment and still catch my flight at OAK. The Sculptor's office rescheduled me on short notice a few hours earlier, which while mighty decent of them meant I didn't get to talk to the Sculptor before I jumped on an eastbound BART train. Punch line: I had to wait two hours before I could even check my bag, then four hours more at weirdly deserted OAK.
Oh, the actual second post-op appointment: cast off my nose, splints out of my nose – I helped remove them – and tape on my nose, which I'll be applying myself for the next four weeks for at least part of the day. As of yesterday I can breathe through my nose again!
So am I going to be goddess? I haven't the faintest, not least because I can see my face change from day to day. But it's definitely not a plastic surgery disaster. The Sculptor's chief medical minion, J, says that in two to three weeks I should pass the "grocery store test", i.e. it should stop being glaringly obvious to everyone else at PCC that I've just had surgery, the "lumpies and bumpies" having gone away.
Oh: there's hope on the all-important non-horizontal sleep front. I went up to the loft this morning, looked around, and saw the camping lounge chair that I got for Burning Man oh so many years ago. That should do nicely.
But! As of late last night I'm home. Seldom have I been so glad to see my son, who picked me up at the airport and of course talked about the news. Happiness.
To catch you all up, on Monday was my first post-op appountment: bandages off, staples out. That left the cast on my nose and splints still in my nose, so still no breathing through my nose, which turned out to be the single hardest aspect of this whole process.
What the hell did I do on Tuesday? Oh yeah: I walked to Dark Garden corsets because I was under orders to walk, but they were closed. That may be for the best because a) those people are very good at extracting money from me, and b) trying on corsets is surely against the Sculptor's instructions at this point. But that block of Linden is itself really nice, with some cool street art and hanging lanterns.
I'm proud of myself for making it to Golden Gate Park and Amoeba Music on Wednesday. When I'm in San Francisco I love to go to the Tree Fern Dell and pretend to be a dinosaur. This time, a pelican flew overhead for added realism.
Thing I deliberately blew off: a tour of SomaFM, which can be arranged. I think it would have been too long a walk to that part of the Mission, and if I didn't walk, there wasn't nearly as much point.
Thursday was high stress and stupid: Alaska Airlines had moved my flight an hour earlier, making it questionable whether I could keep my original second post-op appointment and still catch my flight at OAK. The Sculptor's office rescheduled me on short notice a few hours earlier, which while mighty decent of them meant I didn't get to talk to the Sculptor before I jumped on an eastbound BART train. Punch line: I had to wait two hours before I could even check my bag, then four hours more at weirdly deserted OAK.
Oh, the actual second post-op appointment: cast off my nose, splints out of my nose – I helped remove them – and tape on my nose, which I'll be applying myself for the next four weeks for at least part of the day. As of yesterday I can breathe through my nose again!
So am I going to be goddess? I haven't the faintest, not least because I can see my face change from day to day. But it's definitely not a plastic surgery disaster. The Sculptor's chief medical minion, J, says that in two to three weeks I should pass the "grocery store test", i.e. it should stop being glaringly obvious to everyone else at PCC that I've just had surgery, the "lumpies and bumpies" having gone away.
Oh: there's hope on the all-important non-horizontal sleep front. I went up to the loft this morning, looked around, and saw the camping lounge chair that I got for Burning Man oh so many years ago. That should do nicely.
