The Diary of Septoplasty Surgery
I’m 21, 8 days ago I had surgery on my deviated septum. I’m not there yet, but I feel WAY better than I felt on day 4. If you’re getting over this surgery and you’re on day 1-5, put the shogun down, it gets better, eventually.
I went through my teenage years with only half a working nostril. I was a total mouth breathing retard, constantly falling asleep with my mouth gaping open and that then leads to having a dry, sore throat and tonsils. Trust me, waking up most mornings with a throat that resembles that disgusting sand filled vagina-hole in Return of the Jedi is not a character building experience.
So at 21 I thought ‘fuck it’ and I perused getting my nose fixed.
Now after the limited amount of research I looked blankly at for 10 minutes, I learned very little. But from the majority of the updates on the internet and people’s own feelings post surgery, I was feeling glum as fuck. People of the internet LOVE a moan, and so do I. Here’s what went down for me.
Day 1: Waking up after surgery, I was out for 2 hours. I come around surrounded by people, mostly folks who work there. I’m groggy and at this point VERY murderable, seriously, I wouldn’t have been able to run away from a worm with leprosy at that point. The first thing I did was throw up, everywhere, all blood, more than once. My nose was tightly packed with gauze and dissolvable packs which hold the airways of your newly cut-to-fuck nose open. I threw up some more, and then went home after asking the nurse If I could as hospitals aren’t my favourite place. Yeah, people die there every day, fuck that.
I know that last insight may have blown your mind but hold onto your ass, It happens. The best thing you can do is get home, buy painkillers and bring your stress level down and just prepare yourself for a sucky 3 days.
Day 2: I slept for 2 hours, it was a dogshit sleep. My throat hurt more than my nose, the breathing tube they used in surgery must’ve been jammed down my neck like a plumbing snake, I was in pain. My nose is packed with blood, snot, poor African children and these pads which absorb the blood. Eating is painful, smiling is painful, my face hurt. I watched a lot of Scrubs and endeavoured to find out if anyone with Dr Turks charisma ever really could exist around that many dying people.
Day 3: I slept worse, my face wasn’t bruised but it felt like a small ape was behind my nose punching pink discharge out of my newly formed face, which is expected but it’s a fairly shit experience. Now you may get asked to squirt a saline solution up your nose 4 times a day to keep your snout moist and lower infection rates, you might not want to do this because it’s uncomfortable, and that’s fine but if you don’t do this you’re a gonk. Tough it out and squirt that salty stuff into your mouth and nose you pretty boy.
Day 4: Getting better, feeling more like myself. I don’t hate being alive at this point but I’m exciting to start being able to eat again. However, Illness strikes and my uvula swells to the size of roughly my entire throat so it’s a perfect fit to fuck with my life. Drinking is agony and eating is impossible. After a quick call to the hospital, they throw me some steroids which bring down the swelling. Now if this happens to you, get on the horn with the hospital and get these steroids straight away. Your throat won’t get better on it’s own because your nose being blocked shoves more air into your mouth and that aggravates your dangly. Get the roids, they’re only pills but they make your next 5 days bearable to the point you can eat soft bread and butter, which at that point for me tasted like I was eating a steak that God took off the Hindu’s thousands of years ago, and reared it, took care of it then violently killed and cooked in secret, just for me. It was wonderful.
Day 5 onwards: Stop moaning, you get better now! You still shouldn’t run, walk, move at all but if you hang out and home and get some work done, write a poem, pet your cat or just watch hours of loose women and start appreciating just how miserable having dried up eggs inside your cunt makes 4 middle-aged women. Just rest, rest and eat light and don’t get too brave when picking your nose, if you’re third knuckle deep, stop and call your Mom.
I have alternating free flowing breathing now (I can breathe through my left and right nostril but not at the same time). I hope I’m fully functional by Christmas, but if not, I’ll still be pleased I got the surgery.
Having a semi working nose rocks! Happy Christmas, you plank.
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