Saturday morning, six days after the procedure. I have been assiduous about applying the Vaseline, and this is what my face looks like, just before I leave to see Mr Hussain to have the stitches removed. The bruising has turned a fetching shade of ochre, and I decided to co ordinate my colouring with my clothes - gold moccasins and a yellow and white Breton top. My jeans are pale grey and my paisley wrap a mixture of brown, gold and blue . How I laughed - inside of course. I didn't want to stretch those stiches !
I suffered my usual bout of catastrophizing en route to the hospital, worrying that the scar line would have drifted, be thick and raised, that I had been deluding myself on what seemed like a promising healing process.
The deep, slow breathing taught to me by the Psychologist (Dr Maggie Bellew at Spire ) helped to control the effects of beginning to hyper ventilate. I'm so dramatic. Ridiculous ! I will come back to the offer of Counselling pre and post op in a later blog.
Anyway. Removal of the stiches involved lying down on the bed (is it called a bed ?? A misnomer if ever there was one, no relaxing here ). Mt Hussain then gently removed the Vaseline and began to snip the stitches. I tried not to breathe. It was fine. The scar was then swabbed with a cold, antiseptic smelling fluid which also allows the steri strips which were to be applied, to stick.
I was concerned that, without the aid of the stitches, my skin would pull away, downwards and that there was a risk of the suture line opening, meaning a wider scar. Mr Hussain explained that, in fact, it was the stitches beneath the surface which were doing all the work. That they took the strain and were holding the opening together. However, in order to support the surface layer of skin, now that the top layer stitches had gone, steri strips were placed, upwards and inwards from my cheek. It feels more reassuring to have that support I have to say.
Instructions for the next few days include continuing to take it easy with no activity likely to raise my blood pressure or send blood pumping to my face. This sounds like a golden ticket but, frankly, I'm watching the household routine dissolve around me and I'm dying to get stuck in. Despite vowing to follow the advice to the letter, I have already shoved a load of darks in the washer (head up, no bending ) because Monday morning WILL come and the bleating for fresh uniform and sports kit is a certainty !
Also, although beginning to eat normally will come, I am still very chary of really chewing. My dreams now are of crusty loaves and a big fat steak ! All in good time I guess. Upside is my weight is going down, despite the best efforts of my Long Suffering and very dear Mum. If she mentions 'Complan' again I am , however, going to have to strangle her.
Right, time for a nap I think. I finally managed to capture my eldest daughter for long enough to help me insert the photos (ie she did it and I watched like someone on Peter Kaye's 'Thick Table' ). Exhausting. I hope the photos help though ?
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