Notes from LA – IPL

So here I was, still at the dermatologists, nearly 45 minutes had passed and I was nervously aware of my constantly vibrating blackberry and all that I still had to do that afternoon. 

It was contributing to my anxiety greatly, which at this point was quite honestly through the roof.  As I fidgeted and contemplated, again, rescheduling, a new face entered the room, clipboard in hand.

After somewhat grossly complimenting my handbag (it is pretty cool), my attire, my shoes, and making polite small talk he handed me the clipboard and kept talking.

What I had been presented with, amidst all the compliments was my bill.

As he kept talking, making it entirely impossible for me to get a word in I realised I was being ambushed. 

” As per your conversation with the Doctor, and his recommendations, as outlined here are the costs involved with your forthcoming blah blah blah . . . .”

With no fight left, $1300.00 (US dollars) later I had signed my face away. 

All I could think of was,  “oh my god, my husband is going to kill me . . . . .”  He did.

I decided not to do the Botox, not now, I felt implored to discuss that with my husband first.  And hoped that my decision to do so would soften the blow of the cost . . . ..  .  It didn’t.

What I did buy was four IPL procedures, one a month for the next four months and four 30 minute Micro Dermabrasion procedures to have inbetween the IPL.

When I was told that the nurse would be back to apply the anaesthetic I wanted to burst in to tears.

They said it wouldn’t hurt!!!  So why an anaesthetic??  I felt completely cheated!  This better be worth it I thought.  Not only was it costing me a fortune, but apparently despite “reassurance” to the contrary, it would also be painful. 

I tried to breathe, literally terrified at what lay ahead.

Firstly they took photos – the dreaded ‘before’ shot.  I made a note to myself to make sure I got those photos, for fear they would end up in some woman’s magazine as  a full page ad.  Anxiety and paranoia had taken control.

The nurse arrived with a large pottle of “goop” (the anaesthetic) and a stash of “Popsicle sticks”.  She told me to close my eyes and relax.  Ha!  Fat chance!

Using the sticks she then literally smeared a layer of the “goop” all over my face, excluding the eye and mouth area.

It felt disgusting.  It was the same consistency as Vaseline and I felt as if I had had a pie of it thrown at my face and rubbed around.

To look in the mirror however it wasn’t “thick” like it felt, my face was just greasy and shiny looking.

I sat for about 30 minutes (it was in fact exactly 30 minutes as I clock watched the entire time, running through my “still to do today” list in mild panic).

My face felt greasy like a fast food fryer the entire time.  To date, there was nothing pleasant to report.

However, after a short while my face quite literally went numb.  Numb like I’d been at the dentist.  Fascinated by the strangeness of the feeling, I was desperate to test my own pain threshold. I did, thankfully and wisely conclude that slapping my own face was probably not the best idea and could be misinterpreted as pure insanity.  

I didn’t however have to wait long as the doctor came back and we were ready to begin.

Yikes . . . . . firstly he checked my comfort levels and the numbness of my face, which of course only made me feel more like I would pee my pants. 

But I did a great job of lying and reassuring him that I was fine.  Shame I couldn’t convince myself the same thing!

He then placed very small goggle like glasses over my eyes that were completely black.  Although I knew these were to protect my eyes from the laser, it was hard not to surmise a conspiracy theory that involved him torturing me and ruining my face and me being unable to see or witness until after the act . . . .

The anticipation was overwhelming as I heard him prepping the machine. Then his hand on my arm, I hated the way he did that.  And he was talking. And we were all go . . . .

He counted down from three so I would know when he was about to “blast” me.

Basically he held the laser, wand type, instrument over my face and then momentarily it projects, an intense light that almost pops, over the desired area. Hmmmm?

Three, two, one . . . . . OMG!!!  It really hurt.  Like really, really, really hurt.  Especially the first one.  I had no idea what to expect, but certainly not this. The pain although very quick was like an electric current that rocked my entire body.

It was shocking.  I wanted to scream. 

I truly wish I could lie . . . . . but it was hideous.  I ‘ve had two kids, so believe me, I know about pian.

In anticipation of the next “blast” I sucked in my breath, my stomach and gripped the bed for dear life. I held on like that, only releasing once the pain was over.

I did this for the next 10 minutes or so as he moved the wand over my entire face.

Around my nose and across the bony part of my cheek was the most painful.

I did, however, get used to it, or maybe I got good at anticipating the blast.  Towards the end of the treatment, the pain although still present seemed less.

All in all, despite my initial terror and shock and my near punching of my newly found dermatologist, I survived, and like childbirth, the pain and its reality quickly left my memory.

Once over, a huge relief washed over me . . . . . it was done.  For now.

As I composed myself and gathered my thoughts, they quickly turned to my face and the hot burning sensation that was emanating from it.

I felt like I had been under a sunlamp for days.  My face felt taught, yet numb and tingly and hot, so so hot.

To touch, it was hot and when I finally got to a mirror . . .  . well it was red.  Really really really red . . . . . red as in, what the hell had I done red. 

Now I knew for sure my husband would really kill me. 

I looked like an actor from a bad eighties TV movie with a comedic sunburn, only mine was real, not fake.

Back in shock, the dermatologist armed me with advice, talk of a follow up call,  creams and such and I left. 

I took my bright red face and left the suite and hit the street, reality.

It was only when I got back to work and was greeted with silence, complete silence and wandering eyes, darting for sneak peeks at my face,  that I realised the extremity of what I had done.

I raced to the bathroom and locked the door.  I stood in front of the mirror.

My face was, a mess . . . . .  .  Suddenly the pigmentation and wrinkles of earlier in the day seemed like old friends, that now gone, I dearly missed.

What had I done, what was to become of my face? I wrinkled up my nose and eyes . . .  . ouch, ouch, ouch . . . . back was the pain.  Pain like the worst sunburn in the world.  I realised the numbness was wearing off.

I still had the remainder of the day, my colleagues and my husband to deal with and the looming prospect of the 3 more sessions, which in the heat of the moment, I had foolishly purchased . . . .  .

I just wanted it to be over.

As French novelist Marquis De Sade once said ” It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure”.

Hmmmmmmm . . . . . not really believing it.  Not yet.

by belinda xx