Andy Sandness
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In this Jan. 25, 2017, photo, face transplant recipient Andy Sandness walks to the Saint Marys Hospital campus at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Min. Sandness can pinpoint the day he looked normal. About three months after the procedure, he was in an elevator with a little boy who glanced at him, then turned to his mother without appearing scared or saying anything. "I knew then," he says, "that the surgery was a success." (AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall)
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In this Jan. 24, 2017 photo, face transplant recipient Andy Sandness talks with physical therapist Helga Smars, right, during an appointment at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. His facial muscles are growing stronger. He received speech therapy to learn to use his tongue in a new mouth and jaw and enunciate clearly.He's thrilled to smell again, breathe normally and be eating foods that were off-limits for a decade: apples, steak and pizza that he shared with his doctors. (AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall)
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In this Jan. 24, 2017, photo, face transplant recipient Andy Sandness looks in a mirror during an appointment with physical therapist Helga Smars, right, at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. He wasn't allowed to see himself immediately after the surgery. His room mirror and cell phone were removed. When he finally did see his face after three weeks, he was overwhelmed. "Once you lose something that you've had forever, you know what it's like not to have it. ... And once you get a second chance to have it back, you never forget it." Just having a nose and mouth are blessings, Sandness says. "The looks are a bonus." (AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall)
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In this Jan. 24, 2017, photo, face transplant recipient Andy Sandness attends a speech therapy appointment at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. He wasn't allowed to see himself immediately after the surgery. His room mirror and cell phone were removed. When he finally did see his face after three weeks, he was overwhelmed. "Once you lose something that you've had forever, you know what it's like not to have it. ... And once you get a second chance to have it back, you never forget it." Just having a nose and mouth are blessings, Sandness says. "The looks are a bonus." (AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall)
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This undated photo provided by Andy Sandness shows him before his injuries in 2006. Two days before Christmas, Sandness reached a breaking point. He'd been sad and drinking too much lately. That night after work while "super, super depressed," he grabbed a rifle from a closet. He stared at it for a while, then put a round in the chamber. He positioned the barrel beneath his chin, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Instantly, he knew he'd made a terrible mistake. When the police arrived, an officer who was a friend cradled him in his arms as Sandness begged, "Please, please don't let me die! I don't want to die!" (Courtesy Andy Sandness via AP)
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In this June 18, 2016 photo provided by the Mayo Clinic, Dr. Samir Mardini checks on his patient, Andy Sandness, days after leading a team that performed the first face transplant surgery at the medical center. Sandness, who was sedated for several days, wasn't allowed to see himself immediately. His room mirror and cell phone were removed. (Eric M. Sheahan/Mayo Clinic via AP)
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In this June 10, 2016 photo provided by the Mayo Clinic, Andy Sandness waits for his face transplant procedure at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. Asked by the doctors what he expected from the transplant to make sure he had realistic goals, Sandness said he wanted a working nose, the ability to bite, swallow, chew _ and to "get good stares as opposed to bad stares." (Eric M. Sheahan/Mayo Clinic via AP)
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In this June 10, 2016 photo provided by the Mayo Clinic, Andy Sandness, right, talks with his father, Reed Sandness, and Dr. Samir Mardini, left, before Andy's face transplant procedure at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. In the process leading up to the surgery, Mardini tried to temper his patient's enthusiasm. "Think very hard about this," he said. Only a few dozen transplants have been done around the world, and he wanted Andy to understand the risks and the aftermath: a lifelong regimen of anti-rejection drugs. But Sandness could hardly contain himself. "How long until I can do this?" he asked. (Eric M. Sheahan/Mayo Clinic via AP)
