October 23, 2019

I am a bloody, swollen, dizzy mess. The pain, burning, redness and bizarre shape of my face make me shudder, taking me right back to the gruesome situation post-accident. Only this was planned surgery, this will heal steadily, this is a normal response… or so say the doctors and so I tell myself.

 

Yesterday’s procedure did not go as planned (like that of the day before… and basically every element of this medical process). They discovered another fracture midway through, which is contributing to intense widespread nerve pain, but were masterfully able to fix that in the same process. Only time will tell how all holds up, but for now, this specific surgery is done. And that small success gives me extraordinary relief.

 

Finding a doctor/surgeon/medical professional I can trust has made all the difference in the world in the past 48 hours. My recovery has countless moving pieces, and this is the first area where I feel fully confident in the person leading my care, making diagnoses, establishing plans of action, prescribing medication and performing procedures.

 

When I sat up, the roof of my mouth, cheek and nose were on fire and eery scent of cut bone lingered, yet I felt safe, still wrapped in the blanket the nurse had lovingly placed around me, with the doctor’s hand on my arm telling me he was, in fact, able to complete the operation. My eyes welled with tears of gratitude.

 

In our conversation afterwards, he told me I need to get my lip operated on ASAP to remove the foreign body and heavy mass of fibrotic tissue, which is not only inhibiting speech, but also pushing forcefully on my teeth to a degree that has already visibly shifted my bite. Then, I am to come back for additional oral procedures and dental work.

 

It really is all a waiting game: first this, then that — with the order constantly shifting due to feasibility, priorities and conflicting doctors' opinions. Next will be lip, then comes mouth again, then eye/brow/forehead, then neuro ophthalmology, then then then. Brain diagnostics, as well as psychological, trauma and mental care are paramount all throughout, because that controls my entire body, after all. Each aspect alone is not overly complex, yet every single one has had (and will continue to have, per doctors) complications, as a result of the acute trauma and interconnected nature of all injuries.

 

And so it continues… "Ob-la di, ob-la-da, life goes on // La-la, how the life goes on” were actually the first words I recall hearing after the doctor finished yesterday. Is that a sign or just the inevitable? Maybe I am crazy, maybe I will regret saying this, maybe I am too drugged to think straight, but yesterday felt like that first, long-awaited, real step forward in this chaotic medical journey.