I Have A Stick Up My Nose: A Post-Thanksgiving Rant About The Surgery

The joys of nasal surgery are endless. Obviously. Why else would I write about it while still hyped up on whatever they call these painkillers and with splints in my nose? LOLZ. 

Ok, so maybe nasal surgery is horrid. Or, at least, maybe the little arrow on the little meter is closer to un-enjoyable than it is to enjoyable. Maybe it's dismal sitting here officially missing at least two of my nine senses - taste and smell - and missing all mental acuteness. Maybe I’m tired of swabbing the inside of my nose with Neosporin every two hours. Maybe I drank more water in the last 72 hours than I usually do in a year. Maybe I didn’t appreciate waking up because of the pain at 3am the night before last, looking at the clock and thinking, “oh boy, in an hour I can take another painkiller!” Maybe I just don’t like the “foggy” feeling I’ve had, and maybe I’m tired of being so congested.

Ok, fine! I admit it! It is depressing being surrounded by holiday scents that I can't catch a whiff of; yes, it is depressing that every time I eat a bite of something I know is delicious, like homemade bread with my favorite jam or one of Dadi's dishes, I can't taste it. At all. WHAT IS THE POINT OF EATING IF YOU CAN'T TASTE WHAT YOU ARE PUTTING IN YOUR MOUTH?! Now, I understand that there are redemptive qualities to eating, like, oh, being healthy, staying alive, yaddah yaddah. But can you honestly tell me that you like eating squash and liver more than Café Rio and chocolate? No! If you do, you are lying... You liar. 

I guess I had forgotten what surgery was like; the last time I had surgery, I was in kindergarten, and I don't have the best memory. But had I remembered, I don't think I would have been any more prepared for the last few days.

It was a strange Thanksgiving, to say the least. I’ll spare you the time by continuing for as short a time as possible. If you really want to know, we can have a heart-to-heart discussion later, when there are no lingering delusions and I’m not feeling quite so impatient. There’s a lot of material for me to work with… Shall we begin somewhere near the start, with Sleepless In Seattle? Or perchance you would like to hear about my awakening from general anesthesia…complete with political ice cream and a 5 o'clock shadow. Or would you prefer I start at the very beginning, with Monday, and steam all the way through the week? One way or another, it’s hours of story telling, and I simply don’t have the patience to type it out here and let it explain itself.

I know that by the end of next week I’ll be able to smell freely for the first time in my life and I will have regained my sense of smell, and I’m sure I’ll feel much less congested than ever before, but until then, feel my wrath! In truth, the pain hasn’t been great and the week went by remarkably fast, so I can’t complain, but still… This week! On Monday I’ll get the splints taken out of my nose and I’ll be free! Free to smell and breath and move as I please! Until then… I’ll sleep. 

Do not wake me,
Scout