COSMETIC SURGERY: The Cutting of Communication

This is my second blog post regarding my recent experience with Cosmetic Surgery.  So, if you haven't read the previous post, I hope you'll do so before reading this one.

We left off with my stating that I was shocked at a hostile response given to me by my Plastic Surgeon after I politely asked for a small request.

To give just a bit of back story, my journey post surgery began with a problem with my head bandage the first night.  It hindered my ability to swallow and breathe along with bruising my larynx.  My husband phoned the doctor at 4am to ask permission to cut it near my throat in order to handle the situation.

After that, I ended up with two very differently shaped earlobes, a missed hematoma which caused more problems with the left side of my neck and jaw, a dent near my right eye from a fat transfer to the face, and some bumps inside my lower lip that were causing me to lisp.

For over five weeks, I lived with all the problems because I felt the surgeon would simply fix them.  We spoke of it and I was never concerned.  Nor did I complain.

Upon five weeks post surgery, I had my first "Cher" gig with my new jaw and neck.  I decided to send a picture of myself in makeup and wig via a private message on Facebook so he could see his work.  Here's the picture:

And here is a copy of the resulting dialogue between the doctor and me on that private message thread on Facebook.  His dialogue is in white and mine in blue.

What really upset me is that he automatically attacked me by saying, "Heidi, I just love how you focus only on the minor negative aspects..."  Really?  I was just trying to get help to do my job better and asked nicely about the problem with the lip.  He could have simply said to come into the office sooner than the appointment I currently had, which was about a month away.  I tried to take responsibility for "pushing another button" with my kind reply.  But he then attacked me for talking about this on a private message on Facebook when he could have simply and NICELY said to not communicate any further business on his FB.  I would have gladly agreed.

In any event, we've had several texting sessions via phone since then which got even more embroiled.  You'd think that a surgeon would be the one trying to handle the concerns of a patient who is in the middle of some pretty intense pain, trauma and worry, right?  Instead, I was trying to handle him.

I'll be posting those text messages along with the steps I now have to take to not only fix the problems resulting from this surgery, but also to try and put some ethics in on this surgeon's communication.  If he just has a slight realization regarding his hostile attitude, I'll be happy with all the extra time, effort and money spent.  Meanwhile, I've been approached by a local TV station and an entertainer reporter to tell this story.  Should I?  I'm also filing a formal complaint with the Medical Examiner.

I wish he would have just been kinder and more responsible rather than so confrontational. 

COSMETIC SURGERY: Keeping up with Cher

I've got some dish to "Cher."  I took a hiatus from developing the musical starring myself and two queens in order to get some "work" done on my face.  You see, Cher is not easy to impersonate because of her unique look, voice, etc.  On top of that, the woman is still looking and sounding great at her age, and it is hard to keep up!  That's why I felt the need to finally give in and have some cosmetic surgery.

Finding the right Plastic Surgeon was not easy.  I spent years going to recommended doctors both in Las Vegas and in Beverly Hills.  I even met with the doctor who worked on Cher, herself!  But I was gun shy and could not find enough justification to spend the money or undergo such torture.  Then, a few months ago, a friend of mine and I were visiting.  I noticed that he looked really great and I asked him if he had had any work done.  He admitted that he had and he gave me the name of his Plastic Surgeon.  I met with this doctor and decided to bite the bullet and get my lower face and neck lifted.  I also decided to have some fat transferred into my lips.  The next few posts in this blog will be dedicated to telling you about the surgery, the aftercare and how sorry I feel for the surgeon who has no idea how to communicate to his patients once the anesthesia wears off.

First, let's talk about what I looked like when my poor husband, Gene, drove me home a few hours after my surgery.  You see, fat transfer to the lips can look pretty crazy.   You have to fill the lips to full capacity since 80% of the fat dies or gets reabsorbed into the body.  So, my lips were reminiscent of a platypus!  Of course, there was a tight bandage around my head and the assistant informed Gene that "the swelling has to go somewhere!"  Gene just wasn't ready for what he saw when they wheeled me out of the recovery room.

I'd show you a picture, but then I'd have to kill you!  My husband said I looked more like I had had brain surgery, with all the drooling and swelling.  Lol!

Well, my first night was pretty scary because the bandaging was causing me difficulty in both breathing and swallowing.  So, around 4am, Gene telephoned the doctor to ask if we could cut the bandage a bit to give me more room for my larynx.  We did this and then went to the doctor's office the next day for my first follow-up exam.

I did not see the doctor that day, which surprised me since he knew I had been in some distress the night before.  His assistant took off my bandaging to examine my face and all the stitches.  I'm going to show you a photo of part of the stitches now so you can see that there were a ton of them.  They went in front of my ears, in back of my ears, down the bottom of my scalp and in the scalp above the temples.  It was a lot of stitches!

When the bandages came off, there was a very large swollen mass on the left side of my neck.  I brought this to the attention of the assistant and inquired as to possible remedies for the swelling.  She said it was just "normal swelling" and to ice it.  I went home with a lesser bandage now around my face.

Still a bit loopy from the anesthesia, I found myself not wanting to take any more of the pain pills prescribed to me after the third or fourth day.  I just wanted to regain my wits.  I opted to take some Tylenol and live with the pain.  But my larynx had been injured by the overly tight bandage from the first night and I was miserable.  The large swelling on my neck was not receding from the ice and so I decided to do a little surfing on the net to see if I could find any more helpful information.  What I found was that the swelling I had was not "normal swelling."  It was a "hematoma" or blood-filled sac just under my skin.  I read that these should be drained as soon as possible so as to not cause damage; the worst being the killing off of localized skin cells.  I now had just a few days before my next follow-up appointment.  At least this time, I could tell the assistant that I had a hematoma.

Gene drove me again to my next follow-up which was four days post surgery.  We went into the examining room and were soon met with an assistant.  She said, "You look great," to which I replied, "Except for the hematoma."  I took off my bandage and let her see the large, swollen mass.  She went to get the doctor.  Hurray!

When the doctor saw the hematoma, he looked upset.  He questioned Gene and myself as to when we first noticed this swelling.  We told him on the day after surgery and explained that we had brought it up to his assistant who then told us it was "normal swelling."  He wasn't very happy about that and took his assistant into the hallway to speak to her.  When he returned, he drained the hematoma by opening a few stitches behind my ear and pushing the clotted blood through the opening.  Ouch!  Here's a picture of my neck after the first draining.

I went back to get this drained two more times.  Gene was always with me because I was still too loopy to drive.  During those visits with the doctor, I found him to be a bit resentful whenever I'd bring up things that I felt needed more attention such as my two earlobes that were mismatched, a dent in my skin near my eye and some fat transfer problems with my lips.  I tried to always be cordial and kind because I know how hard it must be for a surgeon to hear complaints after his work.  It's like with any artist who creates something only to have it critiqued in a less-than-perfect fashion.  But never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to react in such a hostile way to a simple request I politely asked him a few weeks later...  (more to come!)