Mole excision. Check.

 

Authentic Ella style 






”Now that I’m home, still numbed up, I can look back on today’s “procedure” and say that overall it wasn’t so bad.” That was the first line of the post I intended to finish and post on Friday. The day, however, got away from me and when I woke up – in A LOT of pain Saturday morning – the cutesy, funny thoughts were long gone. All in all, the mole removal was a much bigger deal than I anticipated.

Naively, I was escorted into the “surgical” room by a very friendly male medical assistant with a name that ended with “ie”. I definitely have a stereotype (that surfaced just at that moment) about men with “boy” names. I tried not to get too worked up about it – he did look older than 12, so I’m sure he knew his stuff. He got me to sign a couple of releases as he explained to me what was going to happen. The more he talked, the more apprehensive I became.

After BoyNurse and I picked some music (they didn’t have any blues), Dr. McNiceGuy showed up. He basically told me that he had to cut out about half of my back to keep the scar pretty. Something about puckering. He said it in a really pleasant, nice way, though. I saw the tray of “tools” and then the cauterizing gun started up (which caused me a painful accidental electrocution episode later, by the way.) That was it. I freaked and started talking really fast for the entire half hour. BoyNurse, Dr McNiceGuy and I actually had a pretty fun conversation. Our main topic was Doc’s love life. He’s seeing two women right now. I suggested that he might be seeing the bartender strictly for the cheap…drinks. He quickly denied this. I then continued to try to keep the conversation light as he CARVED a piece of my skin out of my body the length and thickness of a tropical fish (seriously – I saw it when BoyNurse showed Chris the “fish” in it’s jar.)

I am just starting to recover from the unexpected aftermath of this. I can’t lift anything more than 10 lbs., or exercise, for two weeks - that was quite a shock. It also hurts more than I expected. (I know, I’m a wuss, but I’m perfectly okay with that.) I’m just biding time waiting for the stitches to be removed and the new facts to sink in – I have a five times greater risk of developing melanoma.

My boss has been pretty sympathetic…he told me to quit worrying. He said that I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. He told me to live each day to the fullest. As his employee, I know am supposed to follow orders. This one, unfortunately, seems to be a tough one.