Another week, and another visit to my dermatologist. Seems like these days I can't go a week without visiting my dermatologist for yet another "procedure." Yesterday's procedure was to take a bigger chunk of flesh from my left forearm.
A few weeks ago a wart-like growth appeared on my left forearm, almost overnight. During one of my regular visits to my dermatologist I ask them to check it out. They determined it was actinite keratosis, which a precancerous skin anomaly.
Two weeks ago they removed the growth and sent it out of a biopsy. Last week I got the news, the actinite keratosis was "medium" which meant it was "moving." "Moving" meant that it could change into real skin cancer. Thus I had to schedule yet another visit to my dermatologist for have a larger chunk of meat taken out of my forearm.
My doctor came in with a student (why do I almost always have a student observer?) Injected my forearm four times with a needle (it hurt) to numb up the area designated for surgery. He left, giving time for the anesthetic to take hold. He returns, puts a towel on my lap, and paper over the top of the area to be cut, with a hole cut out in the paper for surgery.
He begins his incision. I look away because I cannot abide the sight of blood (I faint). I feel the pressure of his cutting into the flesh of my arm. He continues to cut, and cut. Finally he finishes. He tells me his assistant will be in to "clean up" and bandage my arm. They (the doctor and the observer) leave). I wait for the assistant, feeling no pain but woozy just the same. I get that way when I am cut upon.
The assistant comes in. She removes the paper towels and clothes and discovers I have blood on my pants (near the crotch area...of course) and on my shirt. She complains that the doctor didn't place the surgery papers properly. I got the feeling he's done this before. I don't care. I just want out of there.
She cleans me up, bandages my arm. She gives me instructions how to bath (showers are all right but don't soak my arm in water). Before I leave I make an appointment for next Friday to have the stitches removed. Yet another weekly visit to my friendly dermatologist. I notice the now drying blood on my pants, near the crotch (naturally). I don't care.
I leave and meet Bill, who was waiting for me in the lobby. He looks at my pants and says "It looks like you peed yourself." I don't care.
On the way home I stop at the thrift store looking to check out any new books. I know my crotch looks bloody. Again, I don't care.
I then stop at the grocery store to stock up to prepare for Frankenstorm (the subject of my next blog post). With my bloody crotch in full view, I must have looked like a deranged escape from the local prison.
I returned home and removed those bloody pants. I sprayed the bloody area with "Spray and Wash." I'm washing those pants (and shirt) now.
My arm didn't hurt yesterday but it is hurting now. Yep, it's hurting and I'm feeling a bit woozy. I don't know if my wooziness is from my bloody episode yesterday or the knowledge that Frankenstorm is on it's way to cause major disruption here on the east coast of Delaware. Yes Virginia, we are the entry point of this Storm of the Century. Oh joy.
|"Frankenstorm" on its way|