The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight

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I'm Buck Melanoma. Moley Russel's Wart.

In my last post about how much I fucking hate doctors, I mentioned how when I went in for sinus pains, the bitch asked me if I was getting treated for acne. Since then I've been downright obsessed with my face. I made an appointment two weeks ago to see a dermatologist to get some prescription stuff. The visit went pretty well, even if I did have to wait an entire hour after my appointment time to even lay eyes on the doctor ("You know how to make a reservation, you just don't know how to keep a reservation").

While she was writing out my prescription, I figured I'd ask her about the large freckle I had noticed recently on the top of my ear that I had never seen before. I showed it to her, she freaked out, pulled out all these measuring sticks and micrsocope things and had me make an appointment for the following week (this past Friday) to come in and have it removed so she can test it. I didn't know whether to panic or not. She said it was "a little" raised, "slightly" discolored and had "kinda" uneven edges.

This Friday I went in to have it removed. My appointment was at four. I had to be heading home by 5:00-5:15 in order to leave in time to go to the Orioles game with Bob, my brother, and his friend Keg. Forgetting the hour it too her to see me last time, I thought this would be sufficient, but just in case, I showed up at 3:30, filled in my forms, found her nurse, and asked if the doctor was running behind, and if so, I'd like to reschedule. The nurse said that everything was right on time today, no problem.

4:10 I get into the examining room. 4:30 the nurse pops in and says that while at 3:45 everything was running on time, the doctor is suddenly behind again but would be in to see me in a few minutes and that the procedure would only take about ten once started. The nurse began explaining the possible side effects of the removal, that I'd have a "little scar" on my ear, and that the mole may come back if they don't get enough of it out.

As promised, the whole removal took a few minutes. Had it not taken her about six tries to get the two stitches in, it would have taken less time. The next hour was a frustrating series of near misses: running down the escalator to have the train door close in my face, running up the stairs to watch the shuttle bus pull away, running down the street to watch the bus bus pass by. But I got home in time to leave for the game, which is a story in and of itself.

She said the scar would be small. I took the band-aid off the following day to see a divot in the top of my ear. I doubt any amount of Neosporin will grow cartilage back, and I'm a little pissed off at the marring of my ear. But, that's really only my biggest worry *if* it turns out to be just another freckle. And my leaning towards the "it's nothing" side grows every day. But when she first asked me to come back to have it removed, I was crushed. All I could think about was how I won't be able to get tan anymore or spend time on the beach. I love being in the sun, I have all my life. Even though I'm fairly confident I'm okay, thinking about not being able to hang around at the beach anymore makes me want to curl up under my desk and cry. Watch me eat my words when I get the results in two weeks.

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