I got more needles last week. I don’t like needles. There’s something about them that gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, it wasn’t a blood test or anything, it was those local anaesthetics to numb the pain for minor surgery.
So I have my body checked from head to toe for moles by the skin cancer specialist. I’ve been to a few GPs who like to slice me up and leave scars, so I asked for a referral when I got the blood test last time. Anyway, I went last week and he found some moles he didn’t like. Jerkwad moles. So he cut them out, leaving me in stitches, not of the laughter kind.
And I didn’t faint. I warned him that I’m notorious for passing out, so he got the nurses in the chat to me, while playing Jack Johnson’s finest. I walked out the door the best part of $600 lighter, with a bandage on my arm and leg.
The results come in on Tuesday and… I have skin cancer. Well, a melanoma. It’s a type of skin cancer.
It didn’t set in until I arrived home from work. I burst into tears while consoled by Misa-chan. Skin cancer. I don’t even go into the sun, I always work indoors, and from 2003 to 2019 I mostly worked the graveyard shift. I’ll give you skin cancer!
So where to next? I go in again on Wednesday to have the stitches removed on my leg and arm, then have the skin flap surgery done on my arm. Going by Dr Google they’re going to cut out a massive chunk and replace the skin from another part of my body. Fun times! I really shouldn’t do any image searches.
Fingers crossed that’s the last of it. I’m so over needles and having things cut off. And having my wallet raided. I know you can’t put a price on health, but sheesh, $600 a visit. I’m in the wrong industry. I couldn’t be a doctor, anyway. I’d faint while giving a blood test to the patient.
And this summer is going to be long and unpleasant, if this past weekend is anything to go by. Already 30°C and we’re only in the 5th week of Spring. I can’t wear a long sleeve shirt (and face mask) for the next 6 months.
