I’m having surgery tomorrow. A nose job. Okay, not really, that’s just how I’m jokingly referring to the roto-rooter job that’s about to be done on all my sinuses and nasal turbinates, in addition to straightening my septum. Yeah, it’s gonna be a good time.
I’m low-key freaking out, because, well, the last surgery I had resulted in PTSD. I actually think I’m remarkably calm, considering. I’ll probably have a major meltdown tomorrow at check in. For now I’ve been going with the “just don’t think about it” method of coping. Denial is a wonderful tool.
I’m hoping I get an anesthesiologist who will actually listen this time when I tell them that, “No, really. I get SUPER nauseous and I WILL be here hacking up my toenails for twelve hours if you don’t stick to these two medications ONLY.” Basically, I want them to skip the sleepy gas altogether and stick with just Propofol (yes, that stuff that killed Michael Jackson) and a little Fentanyl for pain (the only narcotic that I can tolerate, probably because it wears off after about fifteen minutes). I have no idea if this plan will be accepted, but I intend to advocate for it pretty hard. I would seriously rather be in pain than nauseous. Especially when my sinuses and nose are all packed with gauze and I already feel like I can barely breathe. Adding vomiting into that mix really doesn’t appeal to me.
And here’s hoping this actually works! It won’t stop me from getting frequent colds thanks to the kids always bringing germs home, but hopefully it WILL stop all those colds from turning into prolonged sinus infections that take 6-8 weeks and some antibiotics to get over. That’s the goal anyway. So, cross your fingers for me around noon tomorrow.