Great Expectations

I walk into the office of the plastic surgeon that my ENT has set me up with – an appointment that I have been looking forward to for WEEKS!  I’ve thought over and over about how great it would be.  The doctor would confirm my ENT’s assessment that I can’t have the needed sinus surgery without first correcting my deviated (97% deviated!!!) septum, and he would also enlighten me as to how easy it would be to get the rhinoplasty (aka nose job) that I have always wanted while they were in there.  Yep, it was going to be great!!!  Seems pretty cut and dry right?  At least I thought so!  Well, as with most of my great ideas, there were a few things that I hadn’t thought about.  One of those things was the simple act of walking into the waiting room.  As I scanned the figures waiting in the chairs . . . okay so side story – the chairs were all different – no two matching – some of them being way too firm, and others being waaaaaaay too plush sending me plummeting to the ground!  Or so it felt. – I’m not sure if the randomness of seating bothered anyone else that came in there, but it just about gave me hives!!!  Anyhoo, as I was saying, As I scanned the figures waiting in the chairs I immediately began sizing them up.  Hmmm . . . that lady there is probably here for her nose too . . . that big burly guy over there in the steel-toed boots must be here for his eye lids . . . and surely that tanned girl in the back is here post-op judging by the looks of her figure from the “waist up” . . . and that . . . OMG!!!!!  Are these people trying to figure out what I’M here for?!?!?!  I’m pretty sure I just caught that zsa zsa gabor looking lady staring at my chest!  And the botox junkie in the corner scratches her nose every time she looks at me.  What’s that big dude looking at – how dare HE size anybody up????  It was so incredibly overwhelming that I made a quick assessment of the nearest exits from any point in the room.  I’ve never had a panic attack before (except for that one time during an i.v insertion, but that’s an entirely different story . . . ) but I’m pretty sure the on-set of one was in full swing!  I took the clipboard of paperwork from the receptionist and found a seat (the seat that was way too soft and made me flail my arms like a newborn at the feeling of falling to the floor).  Name (um, I wrote Brooke Ellzey instead of Melonie and had to scratch through – I HATE scratch-throughs!!!!) Date of birth (I wrote Brandon’s – scratch-through #2), Address – I got that one right, Phone Number (I put my cell# down only to realize that there was a second phone number line that specifically indicated that it was for your cell phone # – does writing the same phone number in both blanks bother anyone other than me?  No?  Anyhoo . . .), Marital Status – Married (got another one right, my breathing has slowed to a more normal pace, feeling of panic starting to fade . . . ), by the time I finish filling out the 4 pages of my life history, the waiting room is entirely empty except for me.  Phew!  What a relief!!!!!  So what if they stared while I wrote and thought of the dozens of possible reasons why I was there – they were gone now!  Just me, my iphone, the sucky chairs, and the receptionist behind the counter.  5 minutes pass . . . 10 minutes . . . 15 . . . breathing speeds up . . . panic is back . . . This brings me to the other thing that I hadn’t really though about – the doctor was going to want to talk about my nose.  I fully understand that this was exactly what I was there for, but I mean, did we really need to talk about it?  The kids in 4th grade talked about it.  It was mentioned occasionally in junior high.  It was used as an insult lots of times in high school . . . so did we really have to verbalize exactly what was wrong with it now?  I’m totally cool with sitting in the silence, the doctor writing ferociously on his notepad, deciding for himself what would make my nose fit my face . . . “Melonie Ellzey”.  Oh crap, that’s me.  I put away my phone and follow the nurse (who was also the receptionist, but now has a chart and laptop in her hand indicating that she would now be putting on her “assist the doctor” hat.)  She informed me (much to my delight as you can imagine) to the doctor’s office to first “talk” about why I was there.  Great.  Fabulous.  I take a seat on the small sofa (his office furniture all matched – thank God because I was close to the edge) and looked my facially proportionate plastic surgeon in the face.  The conversation went just as I had expected – “Why do you want this procedure?”, “What do you not like about your nose?”, “What is the end result that you are hoping for?” . . . The torture lasted every bit of 30 minutes.  I knew all of the answers to those questions, and I think I did a fairly decent job of putting them into words that dr. perfect could make sense of, but I really don’t think I could have taken another second of discussing the 10 different things that would be done to make my nose “more feminine” as is apparently the end result that I described.  Sigh . . . please pass the chocolate . . . As if the half hour “your nose sucks” convo wasn’t enough, it was followed by a photo session that will be used as my before pictures.  As anyone with a large nose can attest to, a profile picture is nightmare material!  And I had to take about 50 side profile pictures – from every unflattering angel humanly possible.  Oh, but it’s okay because dr. never been teased in his life showed them to me afterward so I could get a better picture of what all he would have to do in this 4 hour surgery.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to see it spelled out so clearly, right?  The modeling shoot was followed by an actual exam of the shnoz during which dr nose job (I’m all out of crafty names for him at this point) had to dictate to his medical assistant (aka receptionist) again every part of the procedure.  Most of the conversation sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher at this point, but I heard the phrases “wow, that is a bad deviation”, “how do you breathe?”, and “quality of life” mentioned.  By the time I was able to flee from the office, my pre-conceived notions about how “exciting” and “perfect” this was going to go had long since gone out the window.  Don’t mistake me, there’s no doubt in my mind that this is still what I want!  I just never in my wildest dreams imagined that actually putting it into words and seeing it in black-and-white would make me feel this way.  Sigh . . . wow that feels so much better.  Maybe blogging will be as therapeutic as they say . . . but if not, there’s always chocolate . . . pass it please . . .

Published in: on May 13, 2011 at 2:09 pm  Comments (4)  

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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. That was amazing Mel-Mel!!!! You shoud definitely write a book….and make us all rich!!! 😉 Now that I’ve said that…..would you like me to go make Mr. Perfect’s face a little crooked?!?!?! It could definitely be arranged, since he made my sissy-in-law feel uncomfortable….how dare he!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. totally love it – not your horrible “plastic” appt, but your blog. I’ve been in that horrible “lets take before pics of your BIG ASS and BELLY” situation before I had my tummy tuck – MORTIFING!! And I have never ONCE thought, boy that Melonie has a big schnoz!!! I think you are beautiful, but I’m also a fan of a little plastic surgery 🙂 Thanks for linking my blog!!


  3. Thanks for making me laugh for a second time today!!!! The way you express your everyday experiences are truly hilarious 🙂 And thanks for linking my blog too.

    Heather E

  4. You crack me up. Thanks for sharing.

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