The Nose on my Face

Last week I was on Spring Break, doing a whole lot of putzing around the house because my car is in the shop with troubles in the right front wheel (Did I hit a pothole too hard?).
Although I have Husband’s car anytime, I don’t like to drive it more often than necessary.

One would think with all that time open that I could have made an appointment with the doctor, but No, he was at a seminar for part of the week, then the treatment room was not available, so I had to take a day off work today, after Spring Break is over.

Since before Christmas I have been dealing with a troubled spot on the tip of my nose.  If it wasn’t itching then it was bleeding, and if neither of those, the mirror said it was the wrong shade of pink.

When I finally went to the doctor at the walk-in clinic to have it cauterized, he got all in a tizzy about how long this has been going on, wrote out a scrip for some potent antibiotics and sent me to my family practitioner, who said a biopsy needed to happen.
The Cancer word was mentioned.

Today was the day.
I had to lean back in a recliner under a real bright light.  Then a sterile cloth was placed over my face.  At least I assume it was sterile, it had the tape and markings of having been through an autoclave, but the assistant didn’t seem all that conscious of what her hands were doing after she pulled on the gloves.
After taking off the gloves, she reached across the tray and set something upright by touching the outside but not the rim.  The actual instrument was still in an intact sterile wrap, and I heard the doctor himself open it.

Even with an injection to numb the area, I think the specimen was taken from a place so deep he might have been touching the root of a tooth.  Golly, the pressure.

Then the bleeding began.  I lost count of how many gauze pads he used, and several swabs of the clotting drug.  At last some tape put on, the doctor left, the assistant said I could sit up.
Immediately, the area began to ooze blood from under the gauze, which was already soaked through.

I leaned back again while the assistant went out to ask the doctor what to do.  More of the clotting drug applied, a fresh wad of gauze, tape cris-crossed so much I could hardly set my glasses on.

Instructions are to keep it on for 12 hours, then I can remove the big one and replace it with a small regular band-aid.  Which I have been wearing every so often since before Christmas, so I should have plenty of stories to tell.

Now the amusing part was going to the store afterwards for my prescription.  The staff knows me, I’m there often enough ever since the days when my sons were in the cart seat.  But most folks are too polite to ask.

Over the weeks of having a spot on the nose of my face, I have learned to volunteer some information, saying I have a long and sorry tale to tell about doctor’s appointments and waiting for lab results.
When I say something first, it brings a look of relief to the other person.

Well, anyway, I just got a job for tomorrow, at a junior high.  Sixth Graders have a keyboarding class, so I think I’ll tell the story of not having my glasses on and leaning in too close to the computer screen, so I burned my nose.

Lab results for the biopsy not in until early next week.  If the news leans towards the worst, it means my health plan will pay for a new nose job, which I have been thinking I need since I was a teenager, what with my dad’s genes showing up so prominently.

I’m behind my nose, so I don’t think about what it looks like too much.
I’ll be glad when I don’t have to put a covering on it again.
Which could be awhile.

~~love and Huggs, Diane