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September 5, 2003, 11:35 a.m.
Greta, Sharon O., and Me
Plastic surgery goes mainstream.

By Allison R. Hayward

he show Nip/Tuck is propelling the basic-cable stalwart F/X up in ratings. Extreme Makeover, ABC's reality show during which participants receive head-to-toe reconfigurations, including surgery, solicits participants with the promise that the "makeover" can change their lives, as well as their looks. The latest issue of People features celebrities such as Sharon Osbourne and Melanie Griffith "Coming Clean About Plastic Surgery."



  
Such confessionals are not limited to Hollywood B-listers. Greta Van Susteren, FOX News host and attorney who rose to national prominence during coverage of the O. J. Simpson trial, includes in her new book, My Turn at the Bully Pulpit, a not-entirely convincing account of her "eye job." Her narrative reflects some of the problems with how cosmetic treatments are considered in the popular media these days, and justifies a closer look.

Given what I've learned through surgery of my own, Van Susteren's account rings a false note. She writes that, between her jobs at CNN and Fox News, she found herself with a month of free time. She decided she would see a doctor about cosmetic eye surgery. She obtained a referral, and through luck unprecedented in the history of man, the doctor's schedule had come clear, and she could see him in two days. She had the procedure two days after the examination, after overcoming her shock at the notion that she could not have any food or liquid before the surgery.

By Van Susteren's calculation, the schedule would give her three weeks to recover from the procedure. She says that she didn't think about the fact that she would have to shoot promotional spots for the show. Van Susteren writes that she went public about the procedure because the persistent swelling made the alteration in her face too obvious to not explain. She notes that she opted for the surgery to look better and please herself, not to please others. She was outraged at suggestions that her surgery would affect her credibility, or that it made her less of a feminist or supporter of women's rights.

Contrast this with the experience of Your Author. I received my referral from the doctor's personal friend, and I scheduled the first available consultation for about six weeks later. After our meeting, for what we thought would be surgery to restore the airflow in my nose (a septorhinoplasty for those of you in medical school) I was told to obtain a physical from my regular doctor, without which I could not receive anesthesia. My internist, kind and generous though he is, did not drop everything to see me — as I recall it took about three weeks to get the physical. My blood tests detected a thyroid problem, and we delayed surgery a month so I could be treated. The surgery required scheduling with the outpatient medical center, which is a busy place, no doubt partially because of the growing popularity of elective surgery. Before the procedure, I was given detailed instructions about what to eat, not eat, drink, not drink, and a handful of prescriptions for infection, swelling, bruising, nausea, and pain. The procedure itself turned out to be more involved than predicted — and so my recovery took longer than expected. All is fine, and I now sport a slightly smaller nose that works quite well, thanks.

Van Susteren's account is puzzling to me. For starters, I have a difficult time believing that in suburban Washington anyone, even a "celebrity," can obtain elective surgery in under a week's time. The lines are too long. Even if I am wrong, however, there appears to be a current in her discussion that seeks to minimize her forethought and preparation for the event. Why? Does she feel her decision is less defensible if she appears to have given it thought and reflection? For anyone who would question her acts, I think it puts her in a stronger position to respond: "Yes, I really thought about how important this surgery was compared with other things I might do with the money. On careful consideration of the risks, I decided to do it.

Is it helpful to others to describe surgical preparation as little more than what it takes to get one's teeth cleaned? True, her procedure was not as serious as mine, but as I understand it, any patient undergoing general anesthesia must take certain precautions, so I believe the essential details would be the same. Patients who take their presurgical obligations lightly, I understand, often do not recover as well, so making the experience sound easy does no one a favor.

Van Susteren's relaxed posture is consistent with the trend that effectively promotes cosmetic procedures. People's profile of celebrities who admit to procedures is rich with accounts of these people's motives, but says little about the risk and pain. One notable exception, Sharon Osborne, admitted that her facelift "hurt like a mother." Roseanne Barr admitted that she would be scared to have more surgery, saying "I'm old and I don't know if I'll wake up from the anesthe[sia]."

Another characteristic of popular coverage of cosmetic surgery is to treat medically justified procedures as equivalent to cosmetic procedures. Most would concede that there is a principled distinction between breast surgery to address chronic back pain or for reconstruction after mastectomy, and Pamela Anderson's ongoing experimentation. Admittedly drawing distinctions here can be tricky — is there a principled difference between removing acne scars and removing wrinkles? Are glasses morally superior to LASIK? The effect of collapsing all procedures and contexts into one pile, however, may be to make one person's continuing experience with Botox or lip-collagen seem little different from procedures another person needs to be healthy.

Public fascination with cosmetic surgery has reached a new level, and that is not healthy. That there is even a market for the $8,000 eyebrow-and-cheek lift demonstrates how increasingly self-centered people with wealth have become. As I've observed, making cosmetic surgery appeal to the mainstream means shouting "COSMETIC" and relegating the surgical unpleasantries to a footnote. This leads to unrealistic expectations, wasted money, and unhappy (and potentially litigious) patients. Moreover, it neglects the deeper questions of whether surgery is a valid monetary investment and if such vanity deserves condemnation.

Allison Hayward is an attorney in the office of Federal Election Commission Vice Chairman Bradley A. Smith. Nothing written here necessarily represents the views of her employer or of the Commission, which as far as she knows has no views about cosmetic surgery — unless paid for with campaign funds.

Miles Gone By

William F. Buckley Jr.'s literary autobiography

Buy it through NR

 
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