Anisha’s Story

Anisha before Bell’s palsy

Both Anisha and her father have experienced Bell’s palsy, here Anisha shares her own experiences.

Bell’s palsy is a term I have always been familiar with, as my dad had experienced it probably around 15 years earlier than I did. While I was only a child at the time, I don’t remember it worrying me or changing my opinion of my dad. He didn’t seem changed by it either, emotionally or physically; with the only noticeable tell being that his already goofy grin had just become even goofier.

In late 2019, after three days of having a strange pain behind my ear, my dad mentioned over dinner that it could be a sign of Bell’s. I went to look in the mirror and tried to make a series of different facial expressions and I noticed I was unable to move my eyebrow on one side. At the time, I actually found it quite funny; it was an odd feeling but after a quick Google and a check on the NHS website, I felt reassured.

“Temporary” and “most people make a full recovery” were the words that stood out to me and made me feel like I had nothing to worry about. Plus, my dad had been through it and been absolutely fine, hadn’t he? I had no idea that evening how often I would go on to cry myself to sleep after seeing a photo of myself and not recognising the person in it. That years would pass by and after expensive physiotherapy, hours of electronic stimulation and a round of Botox later I would still be trapped in a face that only half resembled my own.

Living with Bell’s palsy

For me, the symptoms of my Bell’s palsy have generally been manageable. At the beginning I took to wearing an eyepatch to keep my bad eye from getting dry as I slept. Sometimes still, I will take a sip of water too quickly and a drop or two will spill out on my bad side. I have synkinesis, where some of my facial nerves cause unintended movements, like my eye closing when I smile, or the corner of my mouth lifting when I raise my eyebrows. In general though, Bell’s palsy has not held me back in life.

I’ve started a new career, moved jobs, moved out of my parent’s house, and miraculously fallen in love. Physically, I feel just as capable as I did before. What people may not see; is the toll it takes on me emotionally. I was not hugely confident in my appearance before Bell’s palsy, but any confidence I did have has been steadily washed away by waves of shame each time I am reminded of the face I have lost. Some people will tell me how much it’s improved or that it’s hardly noticeable when my face is at rest, but then when I smile or get in front of a camera the image that is produced is a stark reminder that I am not the same person I once was.

Living with Bell’s palsy

I quickly began offering to take photos, rather than join them and stopped posting as many photos of myself on social media. Any photos I would share would be carefully constructed. Hair down, sunglasses on, face held in a certain angle. Without these crutches I would not feel safe sharing my face. During the pandemic, I was able to hide myself away while working from home, only putting my camera on for Zoom meetings when I absolutely had to.

But as the world has opened back up, I’ve been met with persistent sense of panic over meeting new people and having to explain to them why I look the way I do. Blunt older relatives, who I hadn’t seen since for years, would ask “What happened to your face? Are you ill? What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t feel like someone worthy of feeling good about themselves, or worthy of other people’s time or attention. I would relish any opportunity to hide myself away and my previously lively and playful personality shrank down into something I could quietly bury to avoid anyone looking my way.

I would usually share many details of my life with my friends but have found myself pulling back, sharing less and not wanting to burden them with my now unsolvable problems. I have had tearful conversations with my partner about how I would love to get married but I no longer dream of a big, joyful wedding. The thought of a room full of people, focussing their attention towards me, taking photos from every angle fills me with an overwhelming anxiety.

Living with Bell’s palsy

Questions race through my mind:

Would our wedding guests pity him for marrying someone who looks the way I do?

Would he have found me more attractive if he had met me before my Bell’s?

Looking to the future, I worry that if I have children, am I risking that they will experience this too and will they resent me for it?

When I am not focussing on my appearance, I am able to relax and enjoy my life in a way I have truly missed. But inevitably, I am always reminded of the failure that is my face. I am due to speak with a cosmetic surgeon soon, hoping for some sort of brow/eyelid lift that may be able to rectify my stern half-gaze. Everything I have read online has warned me to set realistic expectations, as there are not many success stories out there of people who have experienced surgical miracles that have restored their facial symmetry. But I cannot give up entirely. Despite everything, I know the life I have built is worthwhile and I have the incredibly good fortune to have wonderful people around me who treat me with the same love and respect that they always have. I hope that as I age I will either appreciate my appearance more for what it is, or simply place less value on it.

I spoke with my dad a few months ago and I asked him if his Bell’s palsy had affected his confidence or self-esteem. Without pausing to think, he assuredly said “Nope, not really.” My dad has never placed too much importance on looks or vanity and I admire him immeasurably for not letting something that happened to him affect his entire outlook on himself. He is more than his Bell’s palsy and I will spend as long as it takes trying to teach myself that I am more than mine.