Last Thursday I went in for plastic surgery to have my cancer spot and moles removed.  It was as pleasant an experience as one might expect from an upscale surgery center in the cosmetic capital of the world.

After I checked in and paid $500 for the use of the center for a couple of hours, I was escorted back to the surgical suites by a nurse who dropped me off in the bathroom to change into my gown and take a pregnancy test.  I asked if it was necessary considering two seconds ago she’d learned I was on my period since I thought a full disclosure was in order since she was going to be rolling me around a operating table soon.  Anyway…

After the nurse took my vitals and another two seconds after she learned I was only to have local anesthetic injections, she asked one of the doctors if he wanted me to have an IV and if there would be general anesthetic.  He teased and said, “Yeah!  Let’s knock her out for this!”  I said that was fine if he wanted me under but I’d better wake up with  new rack and no more skin cancer.  Then they (two doctors) marked the spots they would be cutting out and jabbed me full of lidocaine and took me to the operating room.

Once inside the O.R., I had a grounding pad stuck to the back of my left thigh (to keep me from bursting into flame from the cauterizing instruments).  First I laid on my belly so the mole near my left scapula could be cut out.  Then on my back where one surgeon cut out the cancer on my chest and the other surgeon cut out the mole on my hip.  They both chatted away the whole time with me.  They were quite funny and I had a hard time not laughing.  The last thing you want to be doing while someone is holding a scalpel to your chest is laugh.

As the pieces were cut out they transferred them to a jar and sent them to the lab in hopes that everything in the jar is bad and there isn’t any reason to cut more out.  I hope not because I don’t have another $2500 to spend on plastic surgery that does not include perky boobs at the end of it.

One doctor gave me my post-operation instructions and left the room.  The nurse came to me for the pad stuck to my leg and asked if I was ready.  And then she yanked and skinned me alive.  I actually screamed, “OH MY GOD!”  The doctor came rushing back in and apologized and nervously offered not to charge me for the free waxing.  Heh, heh.  That was the most painful part of the entire process, no joke.

All three spots are pretty sore.  The spot on my back hurts the least because it’s in a place that doesn’t get a lot of action.  The hip spot is right where the underwear and jeans rub.  The chest spot is right at the cleavage where there is a lot of tug.  That one had the most attention paid to it because it was already cancerous and in a highly visible place.  It has two layers of sutures, one subcutaneous with a nice string hanging out of my skin like a wild hair growing, and one on the top layer.  Those sutures will dissolve underneath as the tissue heals and they are tough sutures he wanted in there so it might take up to three months.  The rest come out on Thursday.  Just in time for my weekly shower.