Another day, another removal of a basal cell carcinoma. I am mentally shaking my fist at all those who, through the years, gave me a difficult time about my photophobia. Sunlight and I have never gotten along that well. I remember my dad being really angry at me because I wouldn't open my eyes and smile for a photo, posed so that I was looking directly into the sun. I remember "friends" in junior high school making fun of me for not having a tan, and their mocking tone when I tried to explain that I don't tan... I merely burn, peel, repeat.
Anyway, Dr. Holmquist removed my forehead spot this morning. He gave me a shot of novocain with the intent of deadening the area, but it didn't fully take. He then commenced the procedure, known as Electrodessication and Curettage (ED&C) in which the abnormal tissue is scraped off with a special tool, and then the area is cauterized with an electric needle until the bleeding stops. The procedure is often repeated, and in my case, three times.
So, when the anesthetic didn't work properly, the Dr. H was reduced to zapping me with his electro-dart, and then waiting for me to descend to the table so he could commence scraping. Scrape, zap, descend, repeat. And again....
When he finished, Dr. H said I would have a depression in that spot, but that it would fill in eventually. I left the office thinking, "I have a depressed forehead, but at least no one can say that I lack nerve endings there." That's lame, I know, but it was the best I could do in light of my condition.
In other news, last night featured an INCREDIBLY awkward and difficult meeting with a church. It was like being in Bellevue all over again (the city in Washington, not the psychiatric ward in the NY hospital, though that is an interesting notion). I thought, "How appropriate that I followed up that meeting by having my head examined and a portion extracted!" Perhaps I could recommend that to some of the other participants.
I've got to find another hobby.
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