Her mind, still sluggish from anesthesia, screamed out for painkillers—the only thing she couldn’t have.

Junior Hana Owaidat had just undergone a septorhinoplasty—the combined cosmetic and health-related surgery to a person’s nose. However, her throat, not her nose, felt as though someone had stabbed a knife into it—thus barring her from eating and, therefore, taking medicine.

But Owaidat was unperturbed. The surgery had repaired her septum, the part of the nose that separates the nostrils, which had been severely deviated.

According to the Mayo Clinic, a deviated septum occurs when the thin wall (nasal septum) between one’s nostrils is displaced to one side.

Ideally, the septum is situated at the center of the nose, but in many people it is displaced, making one nasal passage smaller.

“When I looked into the mirror, all I saw was the septum veering off—I couldn’t see the black hole you would normally see,” Owaidat said.

Owaidat’s left nostril was 80 percent blocked, preventing her from either smelling or breathing out of it. The blockage made breathing at night and playing sports difficult, she said.

On top of this, Owaidat was more susceptible to sickness, and her sicknesses lasted longer because it was harder to clear her nose. Her muscles were also suffering from the lack of oxygen they received during exercise as she mainly breathed through her mouth.

And this wasn’t the first surgery Owaidat had undergone to aid her breathing.

At the end of her freshman year, she had her adenoids removed in an attempt to ease her breathing. After that surgery, she was unsure if she was ever going to have another one, but her breathing did not improve.

And so, she made another appointment with her Ear-Nose-Throat doctor for a septorhinoplasty.
“I just thought it would be nice to breathe normally,” Owaidat said.

The planned surgery’s main function was to correct her septum, but it wound up doing a good amount more than that.

Owaidat’s mother, Maya, suggested to Hana that she add a cosmetic aspect to the surgery.

“She’s 16, her bones are already fully developed, and she had a bump on her nose. She was already going to be in surgery, so why not get it fixed?” Mrs. Owaidat said.

According to Jennifer, an assistant at Toft Facial Plastic Surgery, about half of their teenage patients (usually starting at age 17) choose this route as well.

But Hana’s mother isn’t new to the idea of fixing a nose. Over the past 18 years, she has undergone three cosmetic surgeries to her own nose.

“(My nose) looked like a Mediterranean nose—it didn’t fit my face. My features were soft, and my nose was huge,” she said.

For Mrs. Owaidat, surgery was not an intimidating prospect, namely because of the violent civil war environment she grew up in while living in Lebanon.

“We saw machine guns, grenades, people getting killed. I developed a very ‘live life to the fullest’ mentality,” she said.

“I would much rather die beautiful than die being shot in a war.”

Mrs. Owaidat partly attributes her daughter’s lack of fear regarding her surgery to her own mindset during her surgeries.

But, like her mother, Owaidat was interested in changing her own appearance cosmetically.

“My nose was just big. It wasn’t straight. I thought it would make my face look different if I got it fixed,” she said.

Though Owaidat combined a cosmetic surgery with a necessary medical one, teacher Jane Batarseh underwent surgery on her eyes for purely cosmetic reasons.

“I like pretty shoes, I like to pick out clothes—I’m an adorner. This was just one of those things,” Batarseh said.

Batarseh, who had the surgery six years ago, said it was at a time in her life where she needed a boost. Her daughter, Amanda, ‘01, had left for college and her mother had just died, so she was feeling down.

“I thought, ‘I’m going to be teaching for a long time and maybe it would make me feel better,’” Batarseh said.

During her surgery, she told her doctor that she could smell burning flesh.

When her doctor said that they were cauterizing her eyelid, Batarseh replied, “Like the Amazonian women who cauterized their left breasts in order to shoot their bows and arrows better.”

For Batarseh, the surgery was a reward.

“You’ve got to reward yourself—life is too hard not to,” Batarseh said.

“It was like a new bracelet to me.”

Mrs. Owaidat felt that her surgeries resulted in a similar positive effect.

“I think first impressions mean everything,” Mrs. Owaidat said.

“Now I know that when people meet me for the first time, they won’t focus on my nose; they can focus on my personality. It isn’t distracting from the rest of me.”

And although Hana doesn’t know how her new appearance will affect her in the long run, she feels that the surgery has changed who she is as a person.

“It humbled me,” Owaidat said.

“I was never cocky, but I was definitely overconfident before. In Lebanon, I could get anything I wanted—discounts at stores, free things from anyone. I was just a cute little American who people wanted to please, but now things are different.”

When Owaidat was in seventh grade, two boys called her “Toucan Sam.” She remembers not being bothered by what they said, but she couldn’t help letting their words make her more aware of her nose.

“I wish I could help that seventh-grade version of me—make her feel like she didn’t need to change for anyone.”

Nevertheless, Owaidat doesn’t regret the surgery at all.

“It makes me feel good. It’s amazing the difference the surgery made for me—I can actually breathe normally now and I like the way I look,” Owaidat said.

However, because her nose was still delicate, she couldn’t drive, play sports or wear her glasses for a month after surgery. Also, the swelling in her nose will not go down for about three months.

But until then, Hana realizes that she is in a place of power.

“As I was lying there in pain, not being able to eat substantial food or breathe out of my nose, I realized my mom would do or get anything for me,” she said.

So what was her first request? Mint chip ice cream.