“I wanted to look like myself on a good day”

It was not one moment. It was school photographs. Every September I would see myself next to the children and the new staff, and the bottom half of my face had slid. My neck had gone soft, and there was a fold at the corner of my mouth that made me look cross when I was not.

I tried the things you are supposed to try first. Filler in my cheeks helped for a while, and a clinic near me offered a thread lift. I read about threads properly before I booked it and realised they would not touch my neck, which was the bit that bothered me most. So I started reading about facelifts instead, and it took me about a year of reading before I sent anyone a photograph.

“I did not want to look younger, exactly. I wanted to stop looking tired when I wasn’t.”

I had two consultations in the UK first. Both surgeons were lovely and both recommended a deep plane face and neck lift — which was useful, because it meant that when Velsa’s surgeon recommended the same thing from my photographs, I knew it was not a sales pitch. The UK quotes were more than twice the Turkish one, for the operation alone.

What made me trust it in the end was the order of things. I sent photographs from the front, both sides and three-quarter view, and got a written assessment back rather than a price. Then a video call with the surgeon who would actually operate. Then a fixed quote — £5,900 all-inclusive, towards the upper end because the neck was included — with his full name and registration number on it. I checked the number myself before I paid the deposit. Nobody seemed to mind that I did.

I asked whether I should add my eyelids while I was there. The surgeon said my upper lids were fine and my lower lids would be better left alone, and that adding them would mean a longer operation for very little gain. Being talked out of something is a strange way to be reassured, but it worked.

My sister Julie came with me, which I would recommend to anyone having a general anaesthetic abroad. We shared a twin room in the hotel, ten minutes from the hospital.

1. Day 1

   Arrival and consultation

   Driver at the airport, blood tests and an ECG, then an hour with the surgeon. He drew on my face with me sitting up in front of a mirror and showed me where each scar would sit.

2. Day 2

   Surgery

   About four and a half hours, face and neck together. I woke up in a head bandage, feeling tight rather than in pain, and slept most of the afternoon. One night in hospital.

3. Day 3

   Dressing change and back to the hotel

   The drains came out and the bandage was replaced with a softer garment. Seeing my face for the first time was a shock — swollen, bruised, lopsided.

4. Days 4–7

   The hard part

   Swelling peaked on day four. Sleeping propped up, soft food, short walks along the corridor. Day five was the low point.

5. Day 8

   Stitches out

   Most of the stitches in front of and behind the ears were removed. Quick, and less uncomfortable than I had feared.

6. Day 9

   Final check

   The surgeon checked the wounds and the neck, went through the aftercare sheet with me and confirmed I was fit to fly.

7. Day 10

   Flight home

   Aisle seat, compression stockings, a scarf and sunglasses. Nobody on the plane looked twice.

Day five was the worst. The swelling had moved down into my neck and jaw, I could not turn my head properly, and I looked in the mirror and genuinely thought I had made a mistake. I cried in the hotel bathroom so Julie would not hear. The coordinator had warned me in writing that days four to seven are when almost everyone has a wobble, and reading that again on my phone did help — a bit.

• Tightness under the jaw and behind the ears, more than pain. Paracetamol and the prescribed painkillers were enough.
• Numbness in front of both ears and along my cheeks. I had been told to expect it; it is still not pleasant to touch your own face and feel half of it.
• Sleeping propped up on three pillows for two weeks. The hotel found me an extra one without being asked twice.
• Washing my hair for the first time on day four, with Julie’s help, was harder than it sounds.

None of it was dangerous, and I knew who to message if something felt wrong. But I would tell anyone considering this: the operation is one day, and the week after it is the real thing.

I had told my GP before I went, which turned out to be worth it: when I went in for the practice nurse to look at a small scab behind my left ear at week three, she already knew what had been done, and had the operation note and discharge summary I had brought home.

• Weeks 2–3: bruising faded to yellow, then went. I wore scarves and kept out of the sun.
• Week 3½: back at school. I had planned the surgery for the start of the summer holidays deliberately. A colleague said I looked well rested and asked if I had been somewhere nice.
• Weeks 6–12: the tightness eased and my face started to feel like mine. I sent photographs at six weeks and three months for the surgeon to review.
• Month 6: the final shape was mostly there. The scars in front of my ears had faded to fine pale lines that sit in the natural crease.

My jawline is back, my neck is smooth, and the cross-looking fold has gone. Nobody at school has ever said “you have had work done” — people say I look rested, or ask if I have changed my hair. That was exactly the brief.

It is not perfect, and I would rather say so. A patch in front of my left ear is still slightly numb, although it is smaller every month. And for a few months the left earlobe looked very slightly pulled compared with the right. I sent photographs at the six-month review, the surgeon said it would settle as the tissue softened, and it did — by month seven I could not tell which side it had been.

“I wanted to look like myself on a good day, not like somebody else. Nine months on, that is what I got.”

Asked for the parts that went wrong, Claire listed three:

• The printed aftercare sheet gave a painkiller schedule that did not match the label on the box. I messaged the coordinator at nine at night and had a corrected sheet within the hour, but it should not have happened.
• Our transfer to the airport was forty minutes late because of traffic. We still made the flight comfortably, because the pick-up had been booked with plenty of margin — but it was a nervous forty minutes.
• I wish someone had pushed me harder to take four weeks off rather than three and a half. The last few days back at work were tiring.

• Ask for the surgeon’s name and registration number before you pay anything, and check it yourself.
• Take more time off than you think you need. Then add a few days.
• Bring someone if you are having a general anaesthetic. I could not have done day five alone.
• Believe the swelling timeline. Do not judge your face before three months, and do not judge it in a hotel bathroom mirror on day five.
• Tell your GP before you go, and bring every piece of paper home with you.
• Read the risks properly. Numbness and asymmetry were on the list I was given. Knowing that made them annoying rather than frightening.