Cancer Sucks

It's the day after my surgery to remove my basel carcinoma (not to be confused with Basil Rathbone, a joke that NONE of the young nurses got) from my left upper lip.

I can pretty much describe the procedure in one word.

Ouch.

The Skin Surgery Center was very nice and did everything possible to make me feel comfortable. They had to go in twice to dig out the roots of the cancer. That actually wasn't bad because I was numbed, but I lost count on the number of novacaine shots I got somewhere around 18.

After 2 hours of waiting for the second biopsy, they slipped me a note in the waiting area that said I was cancer free and was 4th in line. So after another hour wait I went in for the suturing. That's where things got ugly.

They took the bandages off and asked a question that should ALWAYS be answered with a resounding "NO!".

"Do you want to see the wound first?"

Like an idiot, I said yes.

They gave me a mirror and I almost dropped it when I saw the quarter-sized hole in my face that was deep enough to have blood pooled in it. I handed her the mirror back and started getting nauseous. I thought I was gonna puke, but I held it together. I almost lost it again, when I felt blood pouring from the wound down the side of my face and neck.

After cleaning me up, they started the sutures with the doctor talking about his entertainment system and the nurse (who was from another country) talking about something that sounded akin to voodoo. This was not helping.

After about an hour (it seems) of stitching the doctor said he was finished and that it "looked good". They bandaged me up again and then said "Oh, we forgot to show it to you." Again, I didn't learn from my previous experience and asked to see the picture they took. I have this large, triangular stiched piece in my face.

So for two days, I am not supposed to talk, I can only eat mashed potatoes and milk shakes and vicoden doesn't do crap. But, I survived.

And I guess that's the good part, eh?