For most of my adult life I've had respiratory issues: bad seasonal and food allergies and then sinusitis after sinusitis, about one a year since I was twenty-eight--almost 40 years worth. On Nov.16 I'm having nasal surgery to try and correct some of those problems. The surgeon will go in and shift things around and trim the turbinates, altogether about 90 minutes total time if there are no complications. I'm not looking forward to Monday, but what I'm really dreading are the days that follow. For about a week I will have to breath through my mouth and will be limited in what I can do physically(no bending over, no lifting of anything over 10 pounds, no jogging, nor horse back riding etc.), and of course the pain and discomfort of having your nose sliced up and rearranged. Yesterday I met with the surgeon and realized how much I was turning over to this man: trusting that he will do a good job, that he will be capable, and kind, and, most importantly, knowing that he will do the his very best to take care of my poor, troublesome nose.
***addendum: The surgery was cancelled because the hospital didn't get the result of my covid test in time(I was on the gurney all ready to go in my hospital gown and hospital socks all paper work filled out). It was rescheduled for the following Friday, but but then Covid had gotten even more out of control and I decided to cancel it. So I sit with my nose intact, waiting to see if I will reschedule it for sometime in 2021. Meanwhile, my wonderful surgeon, is scheduling five months out, and as of Jan. 1 will no longer take my insurance(Medicare).