My Visit To The Skin Doctor
Coming up on my 59th birthday, I decided that it was about time to see a skin doctor. I have moles and freckles and age spots and rough spots and any number of other skin oddities, but it seemed like a good idea just to get checked out. Joe loves his skin doctor, Dr. Sams, so I made an appointment.
Now, I've had a spot on my left thigh (TMI, I KNOW) that's been with me for more than 20 years. I figured it was dermatitis or eczema...nothing dangerous. In fact, over the years, a couple of doctors have said, "Yeah, that's not going to kill you." And Dr. Sams, agreed..."Hey, you're still alive!" But he thinks it might be a little surface skin cancer. WHAAAAAT? Still won't kill me, but let's slice off a bit and slip it under a microscope. WTF?
So that's what we did. Actually he sliced it off, dropped it in a jar, and said he'd call me next week. In the meantime, he put a little Vaseline on it and a band-aid and sent me on my way.
Knowing that I didn't have any Vaseline at the house, I thought I'd swing by the Safeway and pick up some for future dressing. Easy-peezy. It had been about 15 minutes by the time I got back in the car, and, as I pulled myself into the seat, I felt a small stab of pain on my leg in the vicinity of the recent slice. I put a quick hand on it to comfort myself. But wait, what's wet? I looked down to see my hand covered in blood! In fact, there's a CD-sized blot of blood along the side of my jeans! Jesus!
Of course, I did what any normal human being would do while sitting in a busy grocery store parking lot - I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to see what was going on.
OMG - there's blood everywhere! I've completely bled though the band-aid, and blood is dripping down toward the seat (thank god for leather seats). SHIT! I remember there are napkins in the glove compartment, so I reach over and pull out a couple. I bleed through both of them. It's like I have a fucking war wound! As I grab another one, I make eye contact with a passerby...seriously. Here I am, pants down, bleeding out...I thought about calling him over, but that might turn into a whole other story.
I finally come to the realization that this is not going to stop anytime soon, so I might as well drive home - I went through another napkin on the way. Close to, I call Joe and tell him the story. And, hey, can you open the door and unlock the screen so I can just run in without having to pull my blood soaked and now sticky wet jeans up? He's like, WHAAAAAT? Yeah.
Long story short, I continued to bleed for about another hour before finally getting the flow stemmed. I called the doctor, and he said I did all the right things and it should be fine. And it was/is.
I have to admit: seeing all that blood was a little freaky - and I watch stuff like The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Queen of the South, so you'd think I'd be desensitized, right? Not so much. But all is well, now. And, yes, the blood came out of the jeans.
Now, I've had a spot on my left thigh (TMI, I KNOW) that's been with me for more than 20 years. I figured it was dermatitis or eczema...nothing dangerous. In fact, over the years, a couple of doctors have said, "Yeah, that's not going to kill you." And Dr. Sams, agreed..."Hey, you're still alive!" But he thinks it might be a little surface skin cancer. WHAAAAAT? Still won't kill me, but let's slice off a bit and slip it under a microscope. WTF?
So that's what we did. Actually he sliced it off, dropped it in a jar, and said he'd call me next week. In the meantime, he put a little Vaseline on it and a band-aid and sent me on my way.
Knowing that I didn't have any Vaseline at the house, I thought I'd swing by the Safeway and pick up some for future dressing. Easy-peezy. It had been about 15 minutes by the time I got back in the car, and, as I pulled myself into the seat, I felt a small stab of pain on my leg in the vicinity of the recent slice. I put a quick hand on it to comfort myself. But wait, what's wet? I looked down to see my hand covered in blood! In fact, there's a CD-sized blot of blood along the side of my jeans! Jesus!
Of course, I did what any normal human being would do while sitting in a busy grocery store parking lot - I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to see what was going on.
OMG - there's blood everywhere! I've completely bled though the band-aid, and blood is dripping down toward the seat (thank god for leather seats). SHIT! I remember there are napkins in the glove compartment, so I reach over and pull out a couple. I bleed through both of them. It's like I have a fucking war wound! As I grab another one, I make eye contact with a passerby...seriously. Here I am, pants down, bleeding out...I thought about calling him over, but that might turn into a whole other story.
I finally come to the realization that this is not going to stop anytime soon, so I might as well drive home - I went through another napkin on the way. Close to, I call Joe and tell him the story. And, hey, can you open the door and unlock the screen so I can just run in without having to pull my blood soaked and now sticky wet jeans up? He's like, WHAAAAAT? Yeah.
Long story short, I continued to bleed for about another hour before finally getting the flow stemmed. I called the doctor, and he said I did all the right things and it should be fine. And it was/is.
I have to admit: seeing all that blood was a little freaky - and I watch stuff like The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Queen of the South, so you'd think I'd be desensitized, right? Not so much. But all is well, now. And, yes, the blood came out of the jeans.
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