Heavenly Beverley : By A Nose

My nose and I are recovering nicely, four days after surgery. Now that the swelling is reducing and I can open my left eye again, I can view Doctor Daram's handiwork with more objectivity. He has performed an almost miracle. For a start, Daram is extremely neat with his stitches. If he ever wanted to part ways with dermatology and MOHS surgery, I am convinced he would be an outstanding textile artist.

He has skilfully blended the stitches along the ridge of my nose and then steered the sewing into the fold of the left side of my nose. At this point, I have high hopes that the end result will not be too frightful.

And my nose has become a local celebrity. Fancy that. My nose has been used to illustrate the dangers of the sun to an impressionable twelve year old young lady, has aroused only curiosity instead of horror and has been remarked upon for its rapidly improving appearance. My nose has become the poster boy for Doctor Daram.

As well it should. Daram is the last of a long line of dermatologists and surgeons I have seen since I was sixteen years old. I have been operated on by a pompous prick who didn't cauterise the blood vessels adequately so I ended up with both a haematoma and a massive infection. I was so important to this geezer that he insisted I see his nurse to remove my stitches. After a few choice remarks from Mark the GP, my infection was treated and he removed the stitches at a later stage. That scar took years to become camouflaged.

At a later date, I was given sedation by a glamour queen plastic surgeon who assured me that would be all I needed. Never did she mention the words "general anaesthetic". Waking up after that previous nose job to the the awful realisation that I had received a full anaesthetic did not impress me. Apparently, I had become "disinhibited (!)" during the procedure and had to be rendered unconscious. Bollocks. And then, being in a Day Hospital, I was unceremoniously booted out after only an hour and a half of recovery time. Fortunately, nausea was not an issue, but Michael drove me home in a bleary state and I slept the clock around. Just as well there were no complications.

And Molescan ended up being a dud. The quack I saw there missed the BCC on my nose completely and misdiagnosed an age spot as "where your glasses sit on your face". Daram's expression was priceless when I admitted this faux pas.

Before Daram, my least harrowing episodes involved various general practitioners, using either the big freeze or having a suspicious bit excised in the treatment room. The difference between these experiences was that Michael was able to be with me, to absorb my swearing and tears and allow me to crush his hand.

Needless to say, I was neurotic and panicked leading up to the event at the South Bank facility. My emergency anxiety medication did help somewhat, but I was still up to about eight on the Richter Scale of Terror.

Entering the MOHS centre in the bowels of the building through its own lift was akin to being a fail as Agent 99. Not having to wait too long prevented a further anxiety eruption into low earth orbit. The suspense prior to the first local anaesthetic was excruciating, far more so than the actual jab. After the initial locals, I became quite interested in the whole process.

And the final stitching was long and tedious because I was beyond exhaustion. The team kept me in good cheer with seventies music bopping in the background.

Fast forward to this afternoon. My nose and I are feeling greatly improved. As the day has not progressed far enough for a glass of vino, I shall have to resort to the Panadol for some pain relief. And of course the antibiotic that is the size of a horse tablet.

However, this latest violation of my nose has actually turned out very well. I have found a young, friendly, very good-looking surgeon and practitioner who does not scare me, who has performed a decent and timely operation with care and compassion and has not given me an infection, a haematoma or a general anaesthetic. And I have no fear about any upcoming return visits. Which there will be as my rotissering of my body as a teenager will continue to throw out skin cancers in protest.

In the meantime, my nose and I are relaxed and comfortable.