When I got my nose cut on last year, the doc proposed doing what is called a "pedicle flap" to replace the divot. In other words, he would cut a slice of skin free from my forehead, leaving it attached at one end to maintain blood supply, and twist the other end down to cover the boo-boo on my nose. After a couple weeks to ensure it had taken, it would be cut loose from its old location on the forehead and everything would be tidied up.
The idea of running around for a few weeks with my nose connected to my forehead was sufficiently disturbing that I asked the alternative. "Well, we could just do a regular skin graft, but it might not take. That needs a good blood supply, and with the smoking..."
"My nose is bleeding like a fire hydrant right now, and I can quit smoking. What's the worst that could happen? The graft doesn't take and we have to make another run at it in a couple weeks with the flap thingy." Because, brrrr... I wanted to avoid the pedicle flap.
Then again, if my nose had been blown off by shrapnel, the pedicle flap might have seemed not such a bad thing. After all, there are boo-boos and then there are boo-boos.
All this to explain the fascination with which I read this BBC piece on the advances in facial plastic surgery made during the Great War. You might find it fascinating, too, but you'll want to make sure your breakfast is good and settled first. They apparently had those special blue benches around the hospital grounds for a reason.