Mohs Better

So, I’m sitting here typing with yet another hole in my head. I know there are those of you out there (you know who you are) who claim this is an infinitesimal addition to the staggering amount already there. That being said, if not acknowledged, I am safely through what turned out to be my 9^th session of Mohs surgery yesterday. I actually went back through my medical record to confirm that number. This was, arguably, the most “pleasant” of the 9 since the surgeon got all the cancer with only one cut. I’m still sporting the huge pressure bandage and 6 stitches on my face until tomorrow which only adds to my “seasoned” look. I don’t think I can claim all these facial scars are the results of past knife fights anymore because, with so many, I’d seem to have never won.

My Bandage and I This Morning

A friend suggested I say they were attained while saving a family from a burning house. I made the mistake of bringing my Favorite Panamanian along with me (as if I had a choice). To clarify why this was a mistake, she got to listen to the discharge instructions on wound care. I always take these with a grain of salt and push the envelope, if you know what I mean. There will be none of that for the next week as she is very strict about following doctor’s orders. She seems to enjoy the power she acquires through knowledge, but don’t we all. She also took photos every chance she could. The nurse offered to show me what my head looked like before the stitching, but I did that once during prior surgeries (never again).

Wife Taking Photos - Prepped and Sanitized

Awaiting Test Results After First Cut

As opposed to the last time, there was no pain at all this time, except when they poke the needle in and out to deaden the area. I was worried because last time at the top of the skull, there was a lot of pain as there is so little meat there to retain the anesthetic and the same would seem to apply to the temple area. By the time they got around to cauterizing, I was feeling everything. It also meant the stitching was a “lot of fun”. None of that this time out. The pain waited until about noon when I noticed that every time I smiled, that seemed to stretch the skin of the face in exactly the manner needed to tweak the wound. So, no smiling for a couple days.

Stitched Up

That became impossible last night when my daughter and the FBR called to check in on me. While that was the best possible medicine I could have received, the smiling that automatically results from seeing them, well, you get the picture. I’m not saying my granddaughter is the vicious type, but she proceeded to make me laugh almost continuously throughout the call. She’s figured out how to superimpose cartoon faces on her and her mother’s faces during the call. That had her abuela in stiches (joining me). It was great seeing them and really helped as the pain meds still had another couple hours before renewal.

Recovery Puzzle

I worked on another puzzle because my warden (whoops, I mean my wife) wasn’t allowing any other physical activity, in accordance with discharge instructions. It was weird sleeping in an elevated position, something I would have ignored except I sleep with that warden. I surprised myself by sleeping though her departure for daily mass this morning and not waking up until after nine, which is two hours later than usual. I guess the body needed some additional recovery time. I wish it would do this in the mornings after pub crawls, but I digress. I get the pressure bandage off tomorrow so I’ll look less like the Frankenstein monster. The downside is I won’t be able to exercise until next week and can’t get back into the pool for two weeks. I guess I’ll have to watch what I eat, well, except for the half gallon of fudge ripple ice cream I devoured yesterday.  

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------RECURRING CHARACTERS:

ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete – my daughter in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter #3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; CRC - Connecticut Riverboat Captain – another close friend from high school, renowned sailor of the big river; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn; Czech Connection – Czech couple who’ve become good friends along with their daughter (the Czech Shadow); Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter; First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd Musquetera (musketeer); Namesake Nephew – son of Great Aunt and Soxfather named after me; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; PCR - Pittsburgh College Roommate – high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; PCR+1 - Pittsburgh College Roommate’s wife; Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; Seis Amigos - two couples from our condo complex and my wife and I; Soxfather – my brother-in-law (whom I miss more than I can ever explain); Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my son in law; Upstairs Neighbors – American couple and great friends who live in condo above us in Panama; Wingmom – Wingman’s mom, of course