True Confession

At least one of my readers thinks my dermatologist is responsible for the extent of my basal cell carcinoma. I need to clarify that, and it includes a confession. 

That little pinprick spot on my nose actually appeared three times - not just twice. After I had the first spot frozen, it took a few months before it showed up again. The second time, my doctor gave me a prescription for Fluorouracil, which I referred to as "chemo in a tube." I applied it to the spot twice a day, for 10 days. It would kill the cancer cells, and then there would be a healing period of another week. The advantage of this over freezing was that it left minimal to no scarring. 

Once the spot healed and my derm rechecked it, I was so glad to have that troublesome spot behind me. Unfortunately, a few months later, it came back. I didn't call my derm this time; I used the Fluorouracil without consulting him first. After I'd used it for 10 days, I called his office and asked if I should leave use it longer this time. The nurse put me on hold, and my doctor came on the line. OK, he was pissed, as he should have been. He said I should never use that cream without his supervision because it would interfere with his monitoring of that spot. 

This doctor has been my dermatologist for over 20 years, so we know each other pretty well. That particular phone call was the closest I've ever come to hearing/seeing him angry. He made me promise I would consult him regarding anything to do with that spot. After it healed that time, I really, really, thought it was gone for good, so I was really surprised when it showed up again rather quickly. This time I knew there was a bigger problem, and I went in for the biopsy. 

So, could the extent of my cancer have been lessened if I'd listened to my doctor? Probably so, and I'm the first to admit it. I'm responsible for this entire situation and I don't want anyone being blamed for something they did/did not do. 

Day 3 After Surgery

I had a dream last night that I was walking through a store, pushing a grocery cart. I was wearing a purple silk shirt and tight jeans with pumps - and my bandage. In the store, I walked past a couple of male employees, and one said to the other, "Now I could go for that...minus the Ironman face." Hello?? I never saw "Ironman," so I don't know if he wore a bandage at any point or not. I guess the good thing about the dream was that, in it, I looked good from behind:-) (Note: I haven't worn tight jeans and pumps for close to 30 years.)

Today my face is more swollen, and I have yellow circles under my eyes. Maybe they won't get black and blue, but I'll have to wait and see. I'm very conscious of the fact that there's a major sore place on my face. On a scale of 1-10, I'd say the pain level is about a 3. 

Some of my friends are shocked that I'm posting my surgery/post surgery pics. Hey, what do I have to hide at this point? The time for vanity is gone, AFAIC. Now I'm just trying to get through this experience the best way I know how. I don't understand why blogging about it is cathartic, but it is. At this point, every little bit helps. 

Last week I saw my orthopedic dr. because of my swollen right foot. After an exam and X-Rays, he diagnosed it as gout. OK. I've never known anyone personally who's had gout, so I knew nothing about it. Well, except that old people got it a lot. After researching it online, I learned it was an "exceptionally painful" type of arthritis caused by too much uric acid in one's system. The uric acid forms needle-sharp crystals in the joint, which cause the pain. He gave me Prednisone and said I should feel much better the next day. Unfortunately, I didn't feel better. He also ordered lab work, so I made my way to the lab and had the blood drawn.

This morning, the doctor called and said my lab results didn't show any uric acid abnormalities, as he had expected. He said it showed I have an infection of some sort. He's phoned in a prescription for antibiotics. OK, this shouldn't really cause me any alarm, but it does. I've had knee implants since I was 42, and I've always been warned by my doctors that an infection has to be treated aggressively ASAP, because they can "settle" into artificial joints. doG forbid that should happen to me, because it would mean I'd have to have my implants removed, lie in a hospital bed with IV antibiotics until the infection cleared, then have the implants reinserted. This happens more than one would think. 

The good news today is that I had a shower and washed my hair. OMG. What a difference it makes when you feel clean:-)