The morning of surgery, I did a staged funny that only Rob and I saw because the pre-surgery staff was no-nonsense enough I was intimated to do anything other than what they instructed. This pic is just for our chuckle. When the staff came around, I had on their official hospital socks. Zero chucks with those folks. It's almost like they were doing life or death stuff.
My one beef about "elective" surgeries, is the approach to the operating room. This is the second time I've been stone-cold sober walking/wheelchaired into an operating room. For me, it is a time of inner panic to see the table, all the operating utensils laid out, ready to do damage to my body.
The surgeon made a point to tell me its important to be calm before this surgery. Uhh...you want me to be calm? Don't make me witness the site of my possible demise! Even death row prisoners are given a nice anti-anxiety med before they are taken to their end. I much prefer being unconscious before the OR. Give me a sedated entry, please. I highly recommend unconsciousness.
*No one in charge cares what I think. I know that. I meekly climbed up on the table, rearranged myself to their specs, and very soon I was gratefully knocked out. Thanks to Beezus.
3 hours later, the surgery was over. Another hour or so in recovery and I was wheeled to the post surgery floor. What was done?
My upper jaw was sawn from my skull, then sawn again into 3 lengthwise pieces. Someone's dead donor bone (thanks, hope you ate organic!) was sliced into shims placed between my jaw pieces to widen the whole upper jaw. With the custom plastic plate wired to my upper teeth on the inside, my upper jaw is stabilized so it will begin to grow new bone. Viola!
My bottom jaw was also sawn from my skull and moved forward to match my new fancy upper jaw. Double jaw surgery, yay!
The immediate aftermath:
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| Poor me! I'm such a warrior. |
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