Plastics

April 30, 2010

I went to the doctor on Wednesday.  To the plastic surgeon, to be exact.  For a consult.  Don’t worry, I’m keeping my B-cups, I was just there so she could advise me about two cysts on my neck.  They’ve been there for two years or so.  Large enough to bother me, almost small enough to deny.  From time to time (when life is stressful) they get infected and then I’m forced to take antibiotics.  That is not my personal favorite chain of events, so I decided to at least schedule an appointment to DISCUSS them.

Well, the surgeon looked at them and said “want them gone?”.   “Well sure”, I replied, but I start teaching swimming soon, so it will have to be in the next two weeks.  You probably don’t have time before then”.  [subtext: I should probably leave them for another year when I’m not as busy].  “Okay, says the Doc, let’s do it now”.

NOW??? While I’m awake???  Like RIGHT NOW???  HERE???

“Sure”, she says “might as well!”.

So while I am signing forms and busy panicking about whether she had a few drinks with lunch and might accidentally hit a major artery, she prepped my neck for surgery.  The awake kind.

Suddenly it hits me.  I’m awake.  This means that if things go bad and I need to take control of my own surgery, I can.  Because, you know, I have an extensive background in plastic surgery.  Well, at least I can try to hold a bleeding artery closed.

Anyway, she proceeded with the surgery and chatted all the while while I clenched my fists and sweated in angst.  In hindsight I’m SO glad she did it then and there since I KNOW I would have put it off for at least another year.  Intentional incisions to the body just scare me.  Especially the neck.

Halfway through the first removal I say “Hey, can I swim with these incisions?”.  She laughs.  In two weeks.  Oops, I say.  I have a triathlon in two weeks.  Is that cool?  She shakes her head and laughs: “I should have known you were that type”.  “Don’t worry” I say, “you can keep going, I’ll figure something out”.  She laughs loudly as I cringe, thinking she’s surely going to slip and nick my jugular.  “Well, a little late now” she says, “I have already cut you open.  But thanks for permission to continue”.

By the end of the appointment she has produced some magical sticky stuff.  This can go over my incisions in one week (see, we have negotiated now) and I can swim at that time.

Anyway, these cuts are on my neck.  In full view.  I am not going to rush into the water and risk unnecessary infection or scarring. Stitches out in one week.   So I’m cool.  Relaxed.  And I can run and bike to my heart’s content, so I’ll be ready to race.

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