Thursday, May 1, 2008


Got a suspicious looking mole removed from my wrist yesterday. The whole process was quite traumatic. There's several ways a doctor can removed a mole: with a punch tool, burning/freezing it, or slicing it off with a scalpel. Guess what method doc used on me? Yup, a scalpel.

They numbed my wrist with a shot. Which wasn't too bad, except it's the kind of shot where they slowly inject the magical numbing medication. So it started to hurt after a few seconds. Like a never-ending shot. When the doc started cutting, it just felt like she was drawing on my arm. It was such a weird feeling. That's when I started feeling very quesy.

"Jessaca, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I think it's just nerves."

"Well, we're stitching you now."

So after what I think was three stitches (I was too afraid to look), they let me lay there. And I passed the hurl stage. The whole process made me realize that as I've aged how sensitive I've become to blood and stuff. The wound is still under wraps because I'm too afraid to look at it.

Oh the joys of taking care of yourself. I did after all volunteer the information that I was concerned about the state of the mole. It had began to change shapes. So, if you really think about it, I did this to myself. I volunteered to get my skin sliced open.

1 comment:

  1. I got queasy just reading this account. Hooray for the autonomic nervous system!