April Winchell

Adventures in Plastic Surgery

Well, I'm back. More accurately, parts of me are back. Other parts are in a landfill, while still others are on their way to Lever Brothers, where they'll be made into bars of Caress.

I don't really know where to begin this update, and I don't know how far I'll get. I have a lot to tell you, but sitting here is extremely uncomfortable. I took some Percocet a few minutes ago, and when that kicks in, anything could happen. This could turn into a novel, or I could leave in mid sentence and go stare at my hairbrush. It's a crap shoot.

I guess I'll start by saying that this has been a pretty awful experience so far. All those happy nights of watching Extreme Makeover did not prepare me for the reality of having a full body overhaul. It's brutal, painful and expensive.

But as my best friend Mick put it, I "had no choice". I do think that's true. After having lost about 130 pounds, my body was really damaged and I couldn't repair it.

So I decided to get it all done. I had my breasts lifted, I had about a gallon of fat sucked out of my hips, waist, back and knees, and I had a tummy tuck.

I think the use of the word, "tummy" is misleading, as it implies some kind of cuddly procedure performed by Care Bears. It's not. It's more like something they did to heretics when they didn't want to kill them all at once.

A tummy tuck is not just snipping off some extra skin and putting Bactine on it. Your entire abdominal infrastructure is stitched up so tightly that you can bearly breathe, and after two weeks, I still can't stand up straight.

I didn't really grasp this until I went in for the surgery. While signing the waivers, the nurse casually mentioned that the extreme tightening of the stomach muscles, coupled with the drugs, would result in very shallow breathing. Unless I "remembered" to take deep breaths every hour, I could get pneumonia.

And that's when it all went south.

I was already tense in the days leading up to the surgery, and by that morning, I was just brittle. The idea that I would have to remind myself to breathe was so scary to me that I started to have a full blown panic attack.

Eventually, I got up and went into the operating room. So good for me.

Of course, I refused to lie down. That was a problem. They don't like doing surgery on you when you're sitting up. Finally the nurse said, "Why don't we start the IV while you're in this position?" which was a good idea, otherwise we might all still be there. I might be under the supply cabinet, hiding from a Forest Ranger with a tranq gun.

All right, that's all I can do right now. I have to go watch TV. I have about 15 hours of Judge Mathis saved up on Tivo.