removal
When I opened my eyes to the dawning of this last Wednesday I knew it was going to be a good day because all of them are, some are just better than others. I also knew that it would have its challenges because all of them do, some that we are aware of and some that we are not. The challenge that I was aware of on this day was that I was going to see my dermatologist.
The challenge part was that I already knew this visit was not going to be one of those “howdy, how are you” kind of check-up visits. Due to a previously taken biopsy I had been informed that I had a basal cell skin cancer on my head that had to be removed. This removal would just be the latest in a series of a dozen or more over the past 10 years or so.
I seem to have no trouble growing these maleficent and malapropos clumps of skin cells with proficiency and a certain amount of profusion. And I do think this ironic inasmuch as they seem to be the only thing I can grow on my head except for scars – certainly not hair. Still I would deem the visit good and bad, bad because it was there and good because she found it and can remove it.
My main concern was whether or not she would have to do a skin graft because the only one she had done thus far reminds me somewhat of a patch one would put on the knee of worn out blue jeans. After only a short wait I was called back and set up for the surgery, an event that I neither dreaded nor looked forward to. About an hour later the growth was out and I was stitched and ready to go.
After instructions and an appointment to remove the sutures I headed for home. She had told me to take it easy for the rest of the day and I didn’t have any trouble doing that especially when the deadening agent wore off and the pain started tapping on my consciousness – more like clubbing me on the head. Since I am loath to take pain medication I just bore with it – Spice calls me stubborn.
Thursday found the wound still very sensitive but I did get out and about a little. On Friday I got some veggies and blueberries picked, didn’t feel like doing much else. More berry picking was done on Saturday and by the end of the day my total quart bags of blueberries came to 23 in the freezer. It seems that I will have to pick most every day of the next week or so to gather all of them in.
I consider the berries a blessing from God, especially since I lost my whole harvest last year due to a late freeze. But God is still good, whether I have berries or not. ec
The challenge part was that I already knew this visit was not going to be one of those “howdy, how are you” kind of check-up visits. Due to a previously taken biopsy I had been informed that I had a basal cell skin cancer on my head that had to be removed. This removal would just be the latest in a series of a dozen or more over the past 10 years or so.
I seem to have no trouble growing these maleficent and malapropos clumps of skin cells with proficiency and a certain amount of profusion. And I do think this ironic inasmuch as they seem to be the only thing I can grow on my head except for scars – certainly not hair. Still I would deem the visit good and bad, bad because it was there and good because she found it and can remove it.
My main concern was whether or not she would have to do a skin graft because the only one she had done thus far reminds me somewhat of a patch one would put on the knee of worn out blue jeans. After only a short wait I was called back and set up for the surgery, an event that I neither dreaded nor looked forward to. About an hour later the growth was out and I was stitched and ready to go.
After instructions and an appointment to remove the sutures I headed for home. She had told me to take it easy for the rest of the day and I didn’t have any trouble doing that especially when the deadening agent wore off and the pain started tapping on my consciousness – more like clubbing me on the head. Since I am loath to take pain medication I just bore with it – Spice calls me stubborn.
Thursday found the wound still very sensitive but I did get out and about a little. On Friday I got some veggies and blueberries picked, didn’t feel like doing much else. More berry picking was done on Saturday and by the end of the day my total quart bags of blueberries came to 23 in the freezer. It seems that I will have to pick most every day of the next week or so to gather all of them in.
I consider the berries a blessing from God, especially since I lost my whole harvest last year due to a late freeze. But God is still good, whether I have berries or not. ec