My appointment took THREE HOURS this morning.
Nothing should an average doctor three hours to do.
I can deliver a whole baby in that amount of time.
I’d noticed a strange mark on my chest a few months back.
Or maybe it was more than a few months.
Who can tell, really?
But it would come and go and seemed just to not be quite right.
I asked Charlie to look at it the other night and I jokingly said, “Watch, it’s probably skin cancer.”
I really was joking.
Or maybe I wasn’t, I don’t know.
Surely I’d thought of it already.
But the thought scared me.
“It might be,” he said after peering close, which set me on the edge of hysteria.
For some reason, ME thinking it might be a spot of skin cancer was different from HIM thinking that.
Though it was nearly 2:00am by that point, I slipped downstairs in the dark, googled skin docs and ended up not sleeping at all.
Some how I turned a maybe dot of skin cancer into something…catastrophic and near immediately life-ending.
Stupid hormones.
(For his part, Charlie slept fine after practically diagnosing me with something wicked and evil. He was snoring by the time I returned to bed. Harumph. Men.)
On Monday, I called one place and was told I could be seen in early April.
By yesterday morning, like I said, I had convinced myself that I had a very rare and VERY deadly form of skin cancer and would possibly not be alive come April.
I called somewhere else and snagged a cancellation for today.
After cooling my heels for an hour in the waiting room, and then another hour in the examination room, I met with the doctor who wasn’t terribly concerned about my spot but decided to biopsy it anyway.
And I had another issue, one that required the actual removal of a tag of skin.
Did I say in my last post that they’d blazen it off with no numbing agent?
Okay, I was wrong there.
They CUT it off.
Like with scissors.
And with this statment, “Due to your condition, I’d like to proceed very conservatively and will not be using Lidocaine for anesthesia. A squirt of saline will trick the body into believing it is numb but this procedure will be slightly more painful for you.”
Sigh.
Yes, yes, of course it will be slightly more painful for me because I am ME!
And this is the crap that happens to me, just like the poop in the shower and the root canal!
This is the Pregnancy of Issues.
(What’s next, dare I ask? A broken foot? A severed finger? This does NOT bode well for an unmedicated birth. What in the hell am I doing???)
Anyway, so they cut it off.
“Tricking” my body into believing it didn’t hurt.
(I do not recommend that they take that trick on the road. It ain’t so great.)
But in fairness…a bikini wax hurts more.
How messed up is THAT???
I ended up missing my field trip which stunk because I was really looking forward to it and to spending this gorgeous day out with the kids.
(Though I was NOT looking forward to chasing Creux around a muddy farm for two hours.)
But I didn’t have to scoop that poop out of the shower so the day wasn’t a complete crapper.
The rest of the day has actually been fine and it’s almost over!
I hung with my babies, letting them play outside and enjoying the fresh air.
I’m happy that spring has arrived.
It’s hard to be miserable when the sun is shining and the day is beautiful.
Someone please remind me of that in early July :)
