So last Wednesday I was mourning a broken candy jar. I guess I was begging fate calling that a “tragedy.” What’s worse? How about a broken face!
My husband was playing a friendly game of softball Thursday night, pitching actually. He took a line drive to the left cheek which landed him in the hospital. I’ll spare you the gory pics, but I thought this image from his CT scan was interesting. In the words of the ER physician that treated him, “I don’t think there’s a bone on that side of your face that you didn’t break.”
Heath had surgery Friday evening to reconstruct his cheekbone and eye socket. I warned the surgeon that I’m a perfectionist, and he laughed and said he was too. We’re told the operation was successful. He is still in substantial pain but hopefully will have the same handsome face I fell in love with.1