Last year, around January, I had to undergo a terrible foot surgery. And I say terrible because it took months to recover. But months felt like years.
I received a foot fracture from falling down the stairs. The truth is I’ve always been clumsy, but those stairs were the clumsiest I’ve ever been. It was like I was day dreaming or something. I still don’t how I thought I was hitting the ground way before the last step and it was 27 steps.
Anyway, the minute I got to the doctor, he said, I needed surgery. But in my mind, I was like, ‘um, I don’t think so.’ See, I’ve never gotten surgery so it was only natural of me to freak out. Nonetheless, I still got the surgery and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was really nervous because I wondered whether I could tolerate and endure such pain.
As far as my experience, however, it was pretty okay. I was under anesthesia and I was asleep the whole time. Even after I woke up, I was fine, but I was drowsy every hour or so. I was told to remain in bed for a week and they really weren’t kidding. It was during the postoperative period that I was in extreme pain especially the second day until the end of the first week.
It was hard to walk. The foot caste and orthopedic surgeon shoe were uncomfortable. The walking cane was a hassle, but it helped a lot. It was my best friend for a while. And the pain was ridiculous. I felt useless and disabled. My mom even had to take me to school every day because I really couldn’t walk properly and on top of that, it was winter.
Once April came, though, I was walking good as new. I was relieved because I couldn’t go out and had to remain inside. I also had to quit my job and that was the worst part. So as soon as the foot caste was removed, I was in heaven. But towards the end of April, I had this crazy idea. I wanted to undergo surgery again, but this time it was not an incident, it was for aesthetic reasons.
All my life, I was insecure, particularly with my nose. I hated it. I hated myself. I felt ugly. It was the worst feeling ever. I even refused to take pictures. In fact, I would hide my nose. It was bad to the point where I compared myself to a falcon. I became so fixated with getting rid of it that I didn’t think of anything else.
When I told my dad how I felt, he gave me a lecture on how I should learn to accept my beauty. But it was hard for me to accept it because I never did. And when the subject of surgery came up, he was actually very supportive.‘If that’s what you want, fine, do it. I don’t have a problem. Whatever makes you happy,” he said.
To this day, I’m grateful to have a father like him. He understood my insecurities and everything I went through so the fact that he supported me meant the world to me. Since my father gave me the okay to undergo surgery, I had to do research of my own to decide where to do it.
I decided South America was the right place. My aunt is a licensed doctor there so it made sense. She was the one who picked the doctor for me, who is by the way, well-certified. Plus, surgery there was very cheap. I was good to go. Around mid-May, I left New York and once I got there, I had to undergo a few tests to ensure I was in good health, which I was.
As far as my doctor, he was very polite and informative. He helped me throughout the whole process. First, I told him I wanted to remove the big bump I had in my nose and I wanted a lift. However, he told me that most of the work would go on the bump. But he ensured me the lifting would be done. Then, he took pictured of it.
After that, I had two more consultations and then, it was surgery day. And that day, I wasn’t a nervous wreck. I was the opposite. I was so happy and relieved that the day had finally come. I myself, was surprised. And even when I was in the hospital bed, being taken to the operation room, I was calm.
The only thing I remember was the nurse putting the anesthesia and asking me, “How do you feel?” But before I could even answer, my eyes were completely closed. I fell asleep. It took the doctor 3 hours to work on my nose. And when I woke up, I could barely see. I felt a tingly sensation in my nose. I couldn’t breathe through there so it was hard.
The only way I could breathe was through my mouth so I kept trying and trying until I felt like I couldn’t so I called the nurse. Then my aunt came and I started to cry. I never imagined it would be so hard to breathe. My eye sight wasn’t 100% either so I felt unable and I couldn’t control anything.
It wasn’t until late at night that I actually had a sip of water, but I was fine with that. And I can only say that since I wanted the surgery so bad, I had to suck it up and put with the difficulties. Beauty requires sacrifice. And I dare say, it was a challenge. But I wasn’t in extreme pain as when I had foot surgery, which surprised.
Prior to my surgery, I heard rhinoplasty is the most painful thing ever. But in my case, it wasn’t. The only hard thing was the breathing, but you accustom to it after a week or so. As for my face, I was bruised all over. Everything was swollen because it was a very invasive surgery. My eyes were all sorts of colors.
My nose was stitched, with gauzes, and medical tape. Surprisingly, my lips were swollen too. And though I wasn’t in extreme pain, I had a major headache that didn’t go away until after three weeks. I felt bad for my aunt because since the surgery was very severe, she had to help me get up, place my pillow a certain way, and help me use the bathroom and bathe me. For me, it was embarrassing because I didn't want her to look at me, but she’s family so I figured it was okay.
The following weeks after that, I started getting better. The doctor prescribed me a number of medications including a cream to improve my bruising condition. The pills, however, were the worst. Since I felt like I couldn’t swallow them with the whole surgery thing, I had my aunt smash them so that I could drink them. But of course, the taste was horrible.
I had to drink the pills every six hours and if I was asleep, my aunt had to wake me up. That was horrible because I had to force myself to breath through my mouth all over again. As far as recovery, it felt like ages. After about three weeks, I had all the things in my nose removed. It hurt me because it was stuffed deep inside so it was not fun at all.
I didn’t see how my nose came out until the doctor removed everything. But when I did, I was satisfied with his job. There was no longer a huge bump in the way. He also lifted it so I was happy about that too. After that, however, I had to stay away from the sun. I wore floppy hats everyday. I couldn't wear sunglasses.
My bruising took a long time to go away. I think it took two months. As far as the condition of my nose, it was very delicate and fragile. I had to take careful care of it, but it wasn't hard. Overall, it was a long recovery. I was depressed for a while. I had to remain inside and couldn't be outdoors and I love the sun.
Whether I regret my surgery, I dare say I don’t. I always hear some people say they’re against plastic surgery, but honestly, if it’s an insecurity, especially for something like the nose, I’m all for it. People used to tell me, “Your nose looks fine” and I’d say, “That’s how you feel, but I don’t. It’s a constant struggle to always look at the mirror and feel off about my nose.” When I finally got it done, I felt different. I felt alive, not cocky.
I actually saw a profound difference. I felt great. And with regard to the people that liked my old nose, they all complimented me. In the end, they were all supportive of my new nose. They actually said I looked better. And honestly, I felt better. Like I earlier said, I felt alive. Rhinoplasty wasn’t so bad after all.
