In Which I Am A Walking Public Service Announcement

I'm thinking I should go walk along the beach (with my SPF 50 and a broad-rimmed hat, of course) carrying a flashing neon arrow pointing to my face and a sign that screams,
"Sunscreen, people! 
Put it on liberally, put it on often.
PUT IT ON NOW!"

The irony is that I've never been one to lay out.  I spent most of the summers of my youth in the basement because it was too hot to be outside. And since we have lived here I have embraced the sunscreen mentality. 

So where did that nasty patch of cells-gone-wild come from?  Unimportant.  The only important thing now is to get back to the dermatolgist for a complete skin examination and make sure the removed stuff doesn't have any cousins still lurking somewhere.

The surgery went pretty well.  What looked like the size of one, maybe two little sesame seeds was actually closer to a  fat almond, so when Paul came in before the doctor got there to close and saw the open wound he was a little unnerved.  The doc had to make a second incision to get a smooth close, so 27 stitches later I have a decent-sized X around the edge of my nostril, trailing down to the edge of my lip.  Too bad I didn't do this in October.  I would have finally had a fantastic Halloween costume.

(Sorry I'm not brave enough to post a picture, although this would be the one time I have a great excuse to take a bad photo. However, if I hear about any of you going out without your sunscreen, I may be forced to post, a la Scared Straight or Red Asphalt.)

I'm Positive

So the Doctor walks into the exam room reading my chart. He reads out loud, “Basal Cell Carcinoma.”

His brows knit a little as he reads to himself for a few more seconds. Then he looks up and smiles. “On a positive note, it’s not the WORST diagnosis you could have!”
 Love him.

The plan is to go in on Thursday and have the doctor scrape away little layers at a time underneath the outside corner of my right nostril until everything is clear. I will have some stitches, the number to be determined by the amount of skin they have to scrape off. On the surface it looks like a very small area, but I was warned that there could be more underneath. We will see.

So my very private self has been reluctant to say anything to anyone about this.  It doesn't seem like a big deal. And well, sometimes I am just not comfortable sharing. 

But I was recently reminded that it is not a bad thing to have people concerned and praying for you, even if it doesn't seem like a big deal.

Most of you probably won't see this until everything is all cleaned up and I am home milking my condition for all it's worth, but maybe you could still send up a little prayer on my behalf.

And on a postive note, I did share!