MARIE CLAIRE
Diary Of A Facelift
Andrea Spring, 46, sits beneath the brilliant white lights of an examining room, staring at herself in a hand-held mirror.
“Tell me everything you don’t like about your face,” says Dr. Thomas Romo, chief of facial plastic surgery at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City.
Andrea points to the crinkly skin beneath her eyes, the lines in her forehead. “I look tired all the time,” she says. “I want everything tighter, with more contour in my chin and cheeks. Can you do that?” She looks up at the doctor with a mixture of hope and fear.
Dr. Romo nods, “Yes, but first let me tell you what I don’t like about your face. Your brows are sagging, your upper eyelids are heavy, your jaw is loosening. You look like an old woman,” he concludes. Andrea sinks deeper into her chair.
“Hey, I’m not that bad,” she protests. “This is getting depressing.” In the end, they agree on a brow lift, full face lift, laser surgery under the eyes and liposuction under her chin. It will take five hours under general anesthesia.
Andrea giggles nervously as she leaves the doctor’s office. “I’m totally freaked,” she admits. Though she’s been considering a face lift for years, this is far more work than she anticipated. The cost of the surgery comes to $20,000
Dr. Romo has warned Andrea of all the potential risks, including infection, blood clots and scarring along suture lines. He also tells her that although she should be able to return to work in two weeks, she won’t fully heal or look her best for one year. Even so, Andrea decides to go through with it.
“In my 20s, I thought nothing could stop me. I never had to worry about my appearance, because I knew I looked good. I want to go back to that,” she says. “I think it will improve my dating, too, because I’ll be more confident. I’m more intimidated around great-looking guys than I used to be. I’ve been obsessed with getting married this year. I’ve always gotten along better with younger men. Maybe because I concentrated on my career, I’ve gotten a little behind in relationships. I want my face to match how I feel.”
“MY FACE IS LIKE A GIANT BALLOON. MY EYES ARE SO TIGHT IT’S HARD TO CLOSE THEM.”
Not completely happy in her promotional job, Andrea also hopes that added confidence will give her a push to look for something new. “I just want my edge back.”
Andrea has asked for three weeks off from work, and she doesn’t plan on telling the people in her office or even her mother about her face lift, worried that they’d be too judgmental. “I told close friends, and most of them said I was nuts. I know that I’m young for a face lift. I don’t smoke or drink, but I think all my teenage years of baking in the sun have caught up with me. Besides, they say you heal better if you do it early.”
Still, three are days when she panics about the prospect. “I’m worried about the pain,” she says. “I’m worried about being alone in my apartment. And I can’t help but wonder what I’m going to end up looking like.”
At 5:45 on the morning of her surgery, Andrea arrives at the hospital with a small plastic shopping bag holding sunglasses and a scarf for her departure the next day. Upstairs, she changes into a hospital gown and jiggles her foot nervously while Dr. Romo marks up her face with a blue felt-tip pen before leading her away. “I’m beyond terror,” she murmurs.
DAY ONE
The first thing I remember after the surgery was the doctors standing over me, yelling my name. One of them said, “You won’t see it for two months, but you’ll be beautiful.” I spent hours in recovery before they took me to a room. The nurse stayed all night, putting ice on my eyes. I called her name every 15 minutes. I needed reassurance. I was heavily drugged, so I didn’t feel that much pain, but there was all this numbness and a tremendous amount of pressure, like I was wearing a plaster mask and my face was swelling up and the mask wouldn’t give. It made me very nervous. I never really slept. In the morning, Dr. Romo came and removed the tubes in my neck that had been draining fluids to prevent bruising.
Getting home this morning was hard. I couldn’t put on the sunglasses because I had this huge bandage on my head. I put the scarf around my face so all you could see was my eyes. People in the elevator stared at me like I was a car accident victim. I’d already been through so much, I couldn’t cope with that, too. All I can do is sit still and put packages of frozen peas on my eyes. I can’t believe my skin can take all this. It feels like it might explode. I’m much too scared to look in the mirror.
DAY THREE
Panic. My skin feels like a dry rubber band that’s going to break. I’m freaking out, I’m so uncomfortable. My face is incredibly swollen. I feel nauseated from the painkillers. My head is wrapped so tightly, I feel as if I’m going to swell out of it. I feel helpless. I finally got up the nerve to look in the mirror and I felt sick. I look like someone in a Halloween costume. I didn’t think I would look this bad. Am I ever going to return to normal? My face is like a giant balloon. My midface is totally numb. The turban I’m wearing is so hot and uncomfortable. My eyes are so tight it’s hard to close them. If I move at all, I’m miserable. My cheeks are much higher than they were and I can feel the difference inside my mouth. If I smile or squint, it hurts. I can get through the day, but at night I get very scared. Still, I’m not sorry I did it.
ONE WEEK
I washed my hair this morning and all this dried blood filled the shower. It was scary and made me lightheaded. I’m afraid to go to sleep, because when I wake up there’s always some new strange sensation. Yesterday I felt like I had a tight elastic band around my neck. The day before, my cheeks were bulging. Today, everything feels so tight, it’s hard to close my eyes. I’ve got a lot of movement and flexibility in my jaw, but my forehead can hardly move. My neck muscles are bulging, which makes it hard for me to talk on the phone for too long.
The pressure in my face is getting better, though. Already, the first few days are fading away. I went for a walk yesterday with a friend to buy groceries. I was a little shaky, but I wrapped my head in a scarf and put on some lipstick. I thought I looked OK, but people stared at me as if I had been in a very bad accident. None of my other friends will come visit me. They don’t want to see me like this. At first, it hurt my feelings, but now I’m trying to stay distanced from it. I don’t think I look like a different person. I look like a swollen version of myself. Yesterday, all of a sudden I thought, What if I still end up single, in the same job? What if my life just stays the same? This was the week from hell.
TWO WEEKS
I still feel so friggin’ tight, like I have an elastic band around my face. And I’m still waking up with strange sensations. Most of the pressure has settled around my neck and throat. I went in to have the stitches and staples out. It didn’t hurt, but I turned to Dr. Romo and asked, “Am I ever going to be pretty again?” Some people still look at me strangely in the street. I’ve been going for long walks every day, but this morning, I almost passed out. The fatigue is overwhelming. I rub my eyes a lot because they get so tight. I’ve noticed that people who don’t know me respond better than people who do. They think I look good, but everyone else wants to know when I’ll look normal again.
THREE WEEKS
I’m not waking up with strange sensations anymore and I’m beginning to get a lot of feeling back in my face, but I decided to take another two weeks off from work because I get so wiped out. I’m just not ready to go back and face them. I’m not prepared for people’s reactions. But I’m feeling really isolated. Not many of my friends have come to see me. I think they’re scared, but my ex-boyfriend came over yesterday for the first time. He was really pleased. He said I look rested.
I’m sleeping much better, and I don’t have to take pain pills anymore. I still haven’t gotten my strength back, but I’m getting a little antsy. Sometimes, I take out old pictures of myself and study them with a magnifying glass. I really looked a lot older before. I think I look much better now.
ONE MONTH
I finally went to see my mom. I said, “Don’t you notice anything different about me?” She said, "Your cheeks look puffy.” I told her I’d been lifted, and she said, “Your eyes look smaller. I liked the old Andrea. You were a beautiful girl, why not leave well enough alone?” It made me feel awful. At least my brother told me I look fabulous. Still, the whole experience was depressing. Earlier in the week I’d gotten a lot of positive feedback from people I didn’t know, especially men. I noticed they stopped to talk to me more in stores. Before, they used to just smile, but now they try to really engage me. I’m excited by the progress I’ve made. I’ve been putting on all my evening dresses at home in the apartment, to play with my new look, and I think I look really hot.
But today I’m feeling kind of unsteady again. One side of my face is still more swollen, and I still feel as if I’m shot full of Novocain. I get itchy as the nerves come back. It’s been a month and I’m tired of waiting to be perfect. I thought I’d be back at work by now. I feel so isolated from other people, except for the visits to my doctor’s office. It’s like a letdown after the party. I feel apprehensive about the future. I’m trying to look my best and take care of myself, but I wonder who I’m going to end up with.
TWO MONTHS
The fatigue is finally going away, and there’s just a little tightness remaining around my eyes. I still get little pings when my nerves reconnect, and the top of my head itches as my skin tightens, but even so, I’m feeling more like myself again at last.
I’ve been getting fabulous comments from people when I walk down the street, and I think I look great, but there’s been this nagging feeling of depression. I’m not really sure why. I was so excited about the surgery, and maybe I thought I’d have a new boyfriend by now. Sometimes it’s as if I don't really know yet what to do with looking so great.
Still, it’s definitely helped with my confidence. I’m more at ease with people because I think I look good, and that comes across. It’s like wearing a new outfit. I know my whole presentation is more positive, I’m so glad I did it. I look exactly the way I thought I would. Making the changes in my face has spurred me on to attempt more changes. Now I want to make the rest of my life match the newness of my face.
THREE MONTHS
I can’t believe how different I feel. I still have a little swelling, but I’m the only person who sees it. I thought I would never get my energy back—that’s been the worst part of this whole experience—but I finally feel normal again. I went back to the gym and started losing weight. I’m looking fresher, I bought new clothes and I’m paying attention to packaging myself.
The big news is that I met a great guy. I found him at a party—I saw him the minute I walked in the door. Our eyes connected. I was very attracted to him. He’s older than I am, and very secure. We started dancing and it was great. I’m so much more confident now, because I know I look rested. I’m able to stay in the moment, instead of worrying about how I look all the time.
It was a few weeks before I was able to tell him about my face lift. By then I was sure he liked me for who I was, I showed him “before” pictures, so he wouldn't think I’d been a monster. He didn’t freak out at all. I think he’s going to be a really important part of my life.
I’ve actually been getting offers for new jobs, too. For the first time, I’m being pursued, instead of the other way around. Finally, I don’t feel like the poor relation anymore. My life is just incredible now.
