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Tomorrow I will have the tip of my nose (or a large portion thereof) cut off. Not to spite my face (yes, I've heard that so many times in the last month!) but because of skin cancer; basal cell carcinoma, thank goodness.
This thing started last summer as a crusty spot on the end of my nose, very tiny, like an errant dandruff flake that fell from my head. I brushed it off and thought no more about it. Until the next one, which was more difficult to brush away. When it grew slightly larger and turned bright pink, I thought it was perhaps a mosquito bite. When I finally realized this just might be cancer, the pink bump had become a slight depression surrounded by a raised rim. This was in September.
My PCP (primary care provider) at the VA clinic confirmed my suspicion and began the process of getting a referral to a civilian dermatologist. This was in late September. The earliest appointment I could find in two counties was for February. A biopsy ruled out squamous cell carcinoma (thank you, Universe!) and surgery was scheduled for a month later.
I was doing well, emotionally, with this idea of having my nose lopped off and the Mohs procedure which will cause my face to be sliced in a wonky zig-zag fashion to cut a circle of skin to cover the hole at the end of my nose, then stitch all that back together again...like Humpty Dumpty, maybe.
But as the hour draws nearer, I feel more like the Cowardly Lion than Pollyanna. Oh, I'll be okay when morning comes, and I'm a big girl now and won't cry and all that, but somewhere inside me there is a little girl who feared getting injections so much that she screamed all the way to the doctor's office - even when she was just going in for a check-up. (Mama, I am so very sorry about that.)
I do wish I had a wizard who would give me a medal for courage to make it all better, though.
(Hope this isn't too gross-looking for the Internet.)
11 comments:
A gutsy thing to do, Crow. Not nice of course but I'm looking beyond the tip of your nose and seeing my old mate. Thinking of all the fratches we've had and all the make-ups. Thinking of all the tough opponents you've faced and all the fifteen-rounders you've seen through to the end. Good on yer.
On your previous post you asked me to pray for the US given the threat it's presently under regarding a certain DT. Let's forget about the nation for the moment. Let me instead pray for you except it won't be to the guy who fashioned DT in the first place, rather to my personal assortment of US heroes: H. L. Mencken, FDR, Gene-Alley-and-Bill-Mazeroski, Jean Paul Jones, Susan Sarandon, Charles Ives, Gore Vidal, Chuck Yeager, Jerry Kramer, Mary McCarthy, Julia Dreyfus. Most of them know about guts and about support. Good to have on your side. Fun too.
Somewhere in the night, while I slept soundly, my "noive" returned. I'll be fine. Daughter is going along to drive us home. Later, mate, and thanks very much for your kind words.
I rather like your choice of gods - most of them, anyway - especially Chuck Yeager, whose courage I've admired for more than 50 years.
Thank goodness you caught it and it is not the more dangerous version. Keep your mind on that. I am so sorry and I am sure you are scared. Keep the faith and we all will be rooting for you.
I've also learned the truth of the saying that old age isn't for the faint of heart. Goodness knows there are enough indignities involved in not being as strong and supple as we once were without adding surgeries and illnesses that leave visible scars. I have some of those too.
One was having to accept the scars left by the chicken pox I caught in my mid-40s. I was covered in sores from head to foot - including the one over my right eye that broke and infected the cornea. While complete recovery took many weeks some of the scars stayed. There are only a few of them now - I call the ones on my forehead my personal star map.
I hope you recover quickly and I'm sure the scar will fade in time just like mine did. All best wishes and admiration for your courage (like the Lion).
Martha, Elaine and I will be thinking of you and sending good thoughts your way.
Got your nose!
The problem, from a physical point of view, is that it's "right in yer face" as they say. On the other hand, the best-looking people are those who have some character - like the "Velveteen Rabbit." We have a friend who recently had the same op. One hardly notices a thing, or remembers how it used to be. She is still who she always was, a good friend. Thus will it be for you, I'm certain.
Oh bugger, that sounds unpleasant. But I think it's a really quick op, and good that it'll be done and out the way. Chin up!
You have guts, Martha. You'll be OK. Veterans will always overcome. All the Best
Sending loving thoughts for fast and ferocious healing! XO Fresca
Thank you, everyone, for your thoughtful comments and good wishes.
The procedure took several hours, mostly waiting for pathology reports on each fresh slice of skin. Finally, though, the doctor had sliced the last of the cancer out and we went on to the next bit - cutting out then stitching on the skin graft.
I had time to think between rounds of slicing and dicing about what all this means, such as will there be others? (probably); will this be the only kind I might have? (no, likely to be any of the others); am I at higher risk now for either squamous cell and/or melanoma? (yes); will this leave a pit or significant scar? (possibly so).
I decided a scar might add interest to my face, but if it didn't I' d sport an eye patch, buy a parrot to ride on my shoulder and squawk obscenities, and cover my body with tattoos of treasure maps and the names of all the men I've loved. Yar, mateys!
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