Hand Grenades and Horseshoes

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July 29, 2021- The lead nurse, on the surgery team that removed a basal cell from my face, this afternoon, advised me not to attach a name to the growth. If I had, it would have been “Birdie”, so I could have then said, “Bye, Bye Birdie!”, after the 1965 musical about a rock star, who was drafted into the Army.

It’s said that close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes. The skilled plastic surgeon. who performed today’s procedure, took no chances with any step and managed to get the entire growth removed, in one surgery. He stitched me back up, in relatively short order, but there was no rush, and he made no mistakes. A photo record was made, of every step along the way. The nurses were continually asking as to my comfort level, almost apologizing for every injection of anesthetic. They did well; I felt only pressure, as the incisions and suturing went forward-with an hour in between them, of course.

I have been fairly fortunate, over the years, health wise: Tooth extractions have had to be done, but otherwise, the last surgery I had was when my tonsils came out, when I was eight. Sun block has only done so much, though, and it has become quite crucial to wear a wide brim hat, when in treeless terrain. There are people who have found themselves sunburned, even through their shirts, so I have at least been fortunate, that way, as well.

After spending about three hours with the team, I was given an instruction sheet, for care of the sutured area and discharged. The huge facial bandage will come off, around 4, tomorrow afternoon-just in time for a Zoom call. The sutures come out, a week from tomorrow-and in the meantime, I will make do with only moderate activity. That’s only fair, considering the frenetic pace of the last three weeks.

I thoroughly appreciate the the work of the entire surgical team. They could not have been more thorough, and professional.