So, maybe you have heard I went in and got the 'roto-rooter' job done on my sinuses. Honestly, it was a long time in coming. I have dealt with sinus infections off and on for years and I really had enough of it. So, after suffering for yet another round of it this year, I went in and had an appointment with an "Ears, Nose, & Throat" Specialist. After taking a look at the CT scan of my sinuses, it was pretty clear that they, well, weren't pretty clear.
I could give you the long list of technical/medical names for the procedures, but I doubt it would mean much to you. It doesn't mean much to me either, other than they stuck something up my nose, rooted around for a while, and figured once enough was rooted out, they would call it a day.
I took a somewhat casual approach to this. I knew it was going to be fairly major - probably the most intrusive procedure since I had my ankle operated on just after my mission. Still, all told, this shouldn't have been nearly as bad as all that, and I guess from an overall standpoint, it really hasn't been. But what it was, it was interesting.
One person I work with had this same procedure done a few years ago. She swears it was worse than having gone through childbirth. I can't speak to that, obviously. But since she actually experienced both, I would say she may be in a unique position to gauge it. Either way, I had my trepidations about the process.
I had to go in early on the 4th for the procedure. I say early, but it wasn't too early. I was supposed to be there at 8:45 am, and was the second procedure scheduled for that day. The plan was to go, get prepped and ready, then off to the surgery at about 9:45 or so. Well, things never go as planned and I was not taken in until almost 11.
I remember going down the hall to the operating room. We left the pre-op room at about 10:50. I was trying to keep careful track of time for the 'memory gap' - the time when you get stoned beyond the ability to remember anything and when you start coming back out of it. Well, I made it to just about the time when the cart stopped and they locked the wheels in place for the surgery. The very next second (at least at my point of reference), I was making jumbled noises about being thirsty, and hearing someone tell me something to the effect that I couldn't have anything to drink just yet.
I don't know who it is that covers the post-operation recovery, but I bet they could have some serious fun with the people coming out of anesthesia. I only remember bits and pieces of it, and everything I said, I am positive was important, and cognizant. Reality could beg to differ on that point, I am sure.
Anyhow, the procedure went longer than they expected. It was supposed to take 1 1/2 hours, and ended up taking closer to 2 1/2 hours. I heard something about having a hard time with the ventilation tube they stuck down my throat (could be hearsay. I don't remember anything about a tube down my throat). I just knew that I felt very much like I had got a good swift kick in the face. It didn't really hurt, because I was so doped up, but I knew it had been hacked on. Plus, I couldn't breath through my nose, as it was packed almost to bursting point with some sort of gauze packing stuff. More on that blessed little piece of equipment later.
After a while of getting myself to the point I could actually sit upright and try and walk, I was released to go home. Fortunately, Kathryn was there as I really doubt the drive home would have been a good experience for me if I had to do it on my own.
And thus started the 4 day journey into discomfort and recovery. All told, it wasn't so bad - just long and uncomfortable. After switching to pain pills (from the lovely IV stuff they were loading me with), I got really strange in my sleeping patterns. I would sit on a chair and doze off only to awaken 2-3 minutes later. I could engage in real conversation with Kathryn or the kids for a while, and once they stepped out I would konk out for 3 minutes or so, they startle myself into being awake. I was supposed to sleep on an incline, so I 'slept' in our Lazy-Boy recliner, which was an adventure in and of itself. But of all the things that it was, the most unusual aspect was that I had nothing coming in or out of my nose.
Have you ever tried to swallow without having the benefit of your nose? It's easy to simulate. Just pinch your nostrils together and try to drink something and actually swallow it. It isn't so easy. Without having the benefit of your nose, things don't go the way they are designed to. Water that is supposed to go down the throat, end up partially coming up the nose. Or the pressure differential ends up "popping" your eardrums - you know, like plugging your nose and trying to blow out - what you do when driving up a canyon and the altitude changes.
After 4 days of this, I was ready to get rid of the nose plugs. I had no idea what this entailed. Fortunately so, because if I did, I would not have been willing to even go to get those things out.
Talking about an amazing experience. Let's see, how to describe it - I can't. What I can say is that the removal of those plugs were FAR worse than anything else I had done during the course of the procedure.
I went into the exam room, and the doctor hiked up the chair I was in so he could an angle on these plug things. I guess they have improved this process, as they used to take gauze strips and stuff them up your nose to pack them really good. This removal was pretty bad - my Mom had it done, and she didn't have many glowing things to say about it. The gauze strips they used to use were 6 foot long pieces, soaked in Vaseline, then crammed into the sinus cavity. Removal entailed grabbing a hold of the end of a piece and pulling on it until all 6 feet came out. The picture I am painting is of a magician pulling a scarf out of his pocket, only it is coming out of your nose - and it keeps coming, and coming. I think Mom's description was something to the effect of, "How did they manage to get all that crap in there?"
Well, my friend, times - they are a changin'. That sort of thing isn't done anymore. Now, they stick this foam thing up there with a straw in it, and once it's in, they inflate it to pack in the sinus. The foam is absorbent, so any liquid gunk can get caught by it, and thus we don't have to go through the magic trick when taking the stuff out.
For mine, they had a total of 4 of these things up my nose; two in each nostril. The doctor got the little string cut that was keeping track of the ends of them, then got the little straw thingie out and let it sit for a second or two to deflate. That's when the fun began.
He took what looked like a pair of needle nose pliers and grabbed the end of the first one and gave it a small crank to one side to get it loose. Inside my head, this sounded a bit like a chisel being hit by a sledge hammer, and a bunch of crackling, popping noses that indicated a significant chunk of my face had dislodged. He then grabbed the end of this foam blob thingie and pulled it out. Only it was bigger than my nostril. If I could visualize it, I would imagine someone using needle nose pliers to try and pull a grape through a straw.
As all fun does come to an end, the foam thinigie finally came out. As I have a somewhat morbid curiosity, I had initially wanted to see what the thing looked like, but my entire body was in the middle of a complete panic attack, afraid that someone had initiated a deadly assault on my skull and had just ripped a chunk out of it. Hot flashes like I never felt before crashed over my body from head to toe. I started sweating, the room started spinning, and I started to go to tunnel vision. At the peak of this pleasant experience, the doctor plunged on with the next foam plug. Despite my surprise at the second wave of the assault, my body at least knew this time what to expect and thus very completely panicked at the cracking, popping noises as the second foam plug was wrenched free from it's original position. A grape-in-the-straw moment later, and foam plug #2 was gone.
I had hoped for a moment to get the license plate number of the bus that just blind sided me, when the doctor plunged in for plug #3. At this point, I realized that plug #2 at least had the benefit that plug #1 was gone and had some room to move for plug #2, because plug #3 took some work to get the cracking, popping noises going. Do I need mention how much my body loved this particular experience? By this time I was seriously questioning my thought process that brought me to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to this procedure. I was certain to have soaked through that in seconds. Follow a grape-in-a-straw moment, and soon plug #4 was doing it's creaking, popping thing. Finally that one came out and I was left to try and gather up the pieces of my face and figure out what the crap had just happened.
The doctor used his suction thing to get some fluid away (he assured me it wasn't blood - not sure why I would have cared with half my face missing, but it was important to him). Then he said in a satisfied voice, "Well, how's that? Can you breath?" I recall taking a moment to soak this question in. It had all the relevance of having someone dropping a nuclear bomb and then asking if I thought it smelled pretty after wards. All I could think of was that I seriously wasn't going to stay in that chair once I passed out and we better make arrangements before I face plant on the floor. So, I feebly said, "Yeah, I can breath, but I think I am going to pass out!"
The doctor sort of chuckled and got me a cold washcloth to try and help me recover. He then launched into his reasoning for going after all 4 plugs with a gusto, saying he had tried to take one out, give his patient time to recover, then going after the next, but he said this way was much more humane. 2 minutes and we were done, as opposed to 20 minutes of drawn out agony. Deep down inside, I would have to agree.
After 5 minutes of discussion about "what's next" (to which I seriously hope Kathryn was listening as I had no idea what he was talking about. I was still trying to unscramble my brains), I was able to get up on shaky legs and to leave the office. I fully believe that the plug removal was FAR worse than the surgery, at least for my personal experience.
Everyday shows improvement, and I am thinking I'll be back up and around by the end of the week. Not bad for having my face re-arranged, I guess.
