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Before I start today’s post I just want to say the yesterday’s Google Hangout went well. We are meeting again tomorrow with the entire leadership team.
Today I took a good look at my face in the bathroom mirror, something I try to do as little as possible. I took a look at the scat on my forehead and thought about how I got it.
I was born with a birthmark, one of those brown circles, just above my nose and right between my eyes. It never bothered me and I rarely gave it any thought. It was there. It was part of me. That’s all there was to it.
All my life I have been prone to cysts. I would go to the doctor when one popped up, he would lance it and I would be good for several years. Well, one day my mole got puffy and I could tell that something had formed behind it. I had an appointment with my dermatologist, told him about it, and asked him if he could do something about it. I figured this was a skin problem and he was a skin doctor.
“No,” he told me. “You will have to see your ENT (ear, nose, and throat) doctor to get it taken care of.”
Huh? an ENT? This is a cyst on my forehead, not a throat problem.
I do go to an ENT for allergy problems, I’m just a physical wreck, so next time I went I asked him about it.
“Oh, sure,” he said. “I can fix that. I will have my office staff call the hospital and set up a time. I will remove the mole and you will be fine.”
Remove the mole? I just wanted him to lance it and send me on my way. This mole is part of my. I never thought of having it removed.
“It will be done as outpatient under local anesthesia. You won’t even be knocked put.”
Gee, thanks doc.
The day of the surgery came. Kathy went with me because I needed a driver afterwards. I was hungry because I had not had breakfast.
In the prep room a nurse comes in and asks if she she can get me anything.
Well, since she asked I told her I would like a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, small OJ and a decaf. She said she didn’t think so. Then why did she ask?
A bit later the anesthesiologist comes in, looks at my chart and says, “You’re having a local. I don’t need to talk to you.” He didn’t know this before hand? I’m starting to wonder if I made a mistake.
I am then taken back to the OR. The doctor and nurses greet me and tell me what will be happening. The doctor puts gauze patches over my eyes and tells me to keep my eyes closed. Really doc? I truly wanted to watch as you cut open my head. Now I am going to miss all of the fun.
I can feel him injecting the numbing agent and shortly I feel nothing, not uncommon for me. He talks to me as he begins the procedure. Then he and the nurses start talking about cutting coupons. Now here he is cutting a mole out of my forehead while he and the nurses are in an animated conversation about cutting coupons out of Sunday’s newspaper. I hope he doesn’t forget that I am not a piece of newsprint.
I felt like saying. “Hey doc. I can hear you. How about concentrating on who is under your scalpel and not on cutting paper apart.”
I don’t think I the procedure took more than 20 minutes and he really did do a good job. I just wish I wasn’t privy to the conversation they were having in the OR while I was being cut open.