changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

holy moly. i should be emabarrassed enough from having said that once already to not say it again.

did i tell you about that time i got a mole on my left hip?

well, i don't know if it showed up for my first or second pregnancy, but i do know it showed up in just the right place to take a ride on an expanding stretch mark. and if you've never seen what that's like, you'll just have to imagine.

babies came and went out of my abdominal cavity, you know how it is, and that little mole just stayed all thin and stretched out looking. and you thought i looked good naked.

so, whatever. streaky mole. who cares. i'm not performing burlesque or even sideshow and it was pretty small anyways. but then about a month ago, it decided to become very angry. agitated. irritated. maybe it didn't like all the pressure from the waistband of my underpants. but there it was. moles can be scary enough in their own right, but when they decide to become inflamed with righteous indignation, even i can be propelled to sign up for a doctor. while i waited the handful of weeks until they would allow the two of us on to their premises, the mole became flaky. one of those flakes came off and there was, like, a pimple up under there. so that was interesting and i totally knew it all along.

after releasing all its pent up anger, it began to relax. meditate. drink some green tea and do a little yoga. i continued on to the recommended dermatologist and that was yesterday afternoon.

brian hung out with violet and i sat in a waiting room for thirty minutes watching how someone maniac blew up moscow and more on that later. i was whisked to the examination room and described my saga to the nurse. she laid out this paper robe and said she likes to really get it unfolded to avoid any confusion for the patient and there was this white plastic strip that fell out of it and i said i was glad she was doing that or that thing would have confused me and she said something about patients sometimes using it as a belt and i said i was about to say. and then i did say i would consider wearing it in my hair.

and then it was naked time in my underthings. and the paper dress.

the doctor (her name was fleischli... get a load of that! a dermatologist named fleischli!) breezed on in and she had that same incredibly quick manner about her as the last dermatologist i visited three years ago, but didn't make me feel quite as much like she had better things to do like facial laser peels that bring in more dollars. i told her the angry mole story and she wrinkled her face in a that's-not-so-good kind of way and said it should probably go away because there are low grade cancer businesses, even though that one really was just probably irritated. and then i remembered i had neglected to email marianne earlier in the day to find out if i needed to brace for mole removal same day or during a future appointment.

i showed her my two prize moles and she was unimpressed and said they could stay unless i was worried about winning mole-less beauty pageants, and i'm not. she scooted all around me to check out the rest of the mole situation and popped the back elastic of my panties like she was brian or something.

the next thing i knew, i was being asked to recline on my back on the table and i responded, WHOA. it was all happening with frightening rapidity and i was quickly discerning she was one of those types who likes to kind of surprise you when they sense you're the nervous sort by performing parts of a procedure without telling you first so they can astound you by saying, "haha! you didn't even know i had done it! did you!"

and i was totally on to her. and i laid it out flat that i'm a big baby, in case it wasn't obvious already from the way i was looking frantically cornered. they brought out a squeezing disk and the nurse offered her arm and hand and i tried not to give her the old death grip, but admit i did a couple of times while my mental efforts were concentrated elsewhere. like on my use of colorful language.

i don't know where all of her things were coming from, as i was making a concerted effort to view the opposite wall and ceiling, but she was coming at me with a needle sliding out of one sleeve and a shiv sliding out of the other and a marker, i don't know, held in her teeth? and now that i think about it, what was that marker even for? was markering the target really necessary?

so, i kept jumping and quizzing her every time she made any kind of a motion in my direction. and she said, "i'm just going to make a mark with a marker. you're not afraid of a marker, are you?" and, in this case, shouldn't i be a little afraid of a marker? i mean, it's marking the path of A SCALPEL. i guess. or, maybe she was making smiley faces or writing insults around it's perimeter. i made kind of a weak plea seeing if maybe they had some of that good old topical novocaine. you know, for the pre-shot numbing. that is just how big a baby i am. and it's not even that it hurts, it's just kind of completely disgusting. they are sticking A NEEDLE UP UNDER YOUR SKIN. and that part seemed to take a remarkably long time. maybe she was doing something secret over there. i don't know. wasn't looking. taking her tricky word for it.

and again, before i could really protest much or squirm much or bargain much, i was being bullied right into mole removal and i started to ask before what method we were using here, as i had seen some sort of burning or freezing canister looking thing out on the counter earlier and maybe we were going that route, and then i decided it was probably best that i don't know if she was slicing me like a thanksgiving turkey right then and there and she kept claiming i wouldn't feel a thing and again, partially beside the point, as there is the grody factor of SOMEONE SLIDING A VERY SHARP KNIFE UP UNDER YOUR SKIN AND REMOVING A MOLE, for christ's sake.

and that went pretty quickly, thank god. and then she was telling me how she was going to cauterize the thing, which means TO PUT A BLOW TORCH UP ON YOUR OPEN WOUND AND MELT YOUR SKIN AROUND IT, but hey, no big deal. and, admittedly, i felt a hair friendlier toward being burned over being cut, for some reason.

and then she was slapping a rather inadequately sized bandaid, in my opinion, on there and scooting straight back out the door before i hardly knew i had even reclined myself upon the table. and my nerves were pretty shot and i could feel tremors and the nurse was reading the little after-care card and paused to ask me if i was going to pass out and i asked why, imagining i must look like i do after i vomit, which is pretty ashen, and she said i didn't. and i wondered if maybe i would or could go ahead and pass on out. she said if i didn't come out after a minute, she would come haul my unconscious body around.

please note how nowhere in there was i ever asked if i wanted the mole removed or if i consented to having the mole removed. i was just knocked straight over the head and my mole was being sold on the black market before i even could come back around.

anyway. had that after-procedure survival burst of adrenaline and it was a pretty day, so there were cartoon birds singing and flying around. and i jogged on through the starbucks and had a frozen beverage and old-fashioned donut for lunch, which is such a great idea on a light head and shot nerves, i imagine. i returned home for a few minutes before going to get oliver. we carried on like normal people on a normal day. brian got freebirds, since i was busy being diced up during dinner prep time.

we go toward the end of the evening and i started realizing i was a little hesitant to change the bandage and put the neosporin on. and i became surprised at just how much it was bothering me, because i didn't not anticipate even an ounce of bother. i figured it would look like a had a little road rash or something.

so i moseyed on into the bathroom and gasped when i lifted my shirt and was surprised to see the bandage slightly peeled back and bloodier than i had expected. and it started occurring to me that perhaps this was going to be a little gruesome. and i just kept surprising myself at how upset i was becoming, because i'm usually curious about my wounds. except for maybe those times where my vagina was torn in half, but you know how that goes. just pretend it's not there and hope it goes away quickly and think about puffy clouds.

i called brian in there when i realized i was becoming overwhelmed and all of a sudden, it was family time crammed into the bathroom and i was starting to feel like anxiety was a force standing behind me and trying to pull me backwards into it and i got a half a glimpse at the bloodied hole sitting right there in my side and felt like i was going to pass out or, more likely, throw up and i kept saying to brian, "i'm really upset. i'm really upset." and tears leaked out of my eyes and it all just felt like it was coming out of nowhere and i was gripping the counter and brian, who is pretty awkward in these situations, finally patted my back or something. and i kept thinking i would let him put the bandaid on and then i would flinch worrying he would push on the sore, which is pretty likely. and i finally stuck the thing on there with him navigating from afar. and it wasn't sticking well and i was terrified i would get a good peek at it. and everyone walked me over to the couch, where i spent time trying not to throw up, until i had a good burp.

oliver caught my tear with his finger and got all those bubble wrap things amazon uses and covered me with them to keep me warm. and he told me not to move ten times and did i understand. and i told him a hug would be nice, because he's his father's child, and he got all coy and gave me a hug.

the end.

except, i put brian on a plane (and by that, i mean brian drove himself to the airport and got on a plane) for the first time since the first month we dated. his work is forcing him to somewhere like stamford, ct, for some unknown reason. client hand-holding, but we don't know why a QA tester needs to hold the client's hand. so that moscow bomb business did not make me feel settled. along with the threats of snow on runways. and so i changed that bandaid to a bigger one, which didn't make me feel like i needed to secure it with medical tape, and i guess i'm just going to have to wait until friday to shower or change it again because i don't think i can face that thing alone. though, i did peek a little at it this morning. i think what's awful is how there's your skin and then, all of a sudden, it plummets an eight of an inch into this hole. i don't think i like that very much.

the end.
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