Biting My Tongue and Making Me Handsome, Again

So there I was in the waiting room of a Mohs surgeon late Thursday morning. Two elderly ladies (and that’s coming from a 64-1/2 year old) were sitting at a table across the room. One was filling out Christmas cards when she turned to the other, apparently a nun because the nurses kept referring to her as Sister Mary, and asked her to pick between two Christmas cards to send to a mixed marriage family with a Jewish father. She refused to compromise and get a Happy Holidays card. The nun scrutinized the cards and said neither would be appropriate. I resisted offering my advice.

They continued talking. The card bearer said the husband was a wonderful man. Sister Mary responded that Jewish people are nice, it's just that they stopped believing in the most wonderful person their religion produced. Again, I bit my tongue. She did, after all, acknowledge that Jesus was Jewish. Too many people don't realize this.

They talked a little longer about the couple’s child, a seventh grader in a Catholic school in Manhattan, a very bright girl who receives three hours of homework every night, six hours over the weekend. The girl was being pressed to take some SAT courses and she's just in seventh grade, but I say nothing, the card lady said. To the nun, however, she worried that all that work might turn the girl off from school.

They retreated into silence. I kept quiet. I’m not sure which was more of a challenge, staying silent or sitting through four and a half hours of Mohs surgery, enduring progressive slicing into my nose. Three times. 

The procedure wasn't painful. Indeed, the total time under the scalpel was probably less than five minutes. The rest of the ordeal was waiting for each slice to be analyzed to determine if any more basal cells resided in my schnozzle. When no more offensive corpuscles showed their colors, the surgeon said it was time to “make you look handsome again.” I thanked him for using the word “again.” 

At Gilda’s prodding I took a selfie of my nose, pre-surgery. I took another after the bandage was put on, along with another bandage in the area between my left ear and sideburn where the doctor nipped off a piece of skin for a graft for my nose. Be thankful the policy of this blog is not to include pictures.

More Medical News: Didn’t tell you about this last week, but I’ve apparently pulled a muscle in my left leg. As I don’t exercise, and didn’t play tennis last Wednesday, I really cannot tell you how I did this. Only thing I know is that after driving into the city last Friday and parking the car, I felt a sharp pain in my left calf within two blocks of walking. After that, until even today, I have been limping along.

In temple on Saturday, concerned congregants (mis)diagnosed me. Do I take statins?, they asked. Yes. Then for sure you have a condition called myopathy and need to take Coenzyme Q10. As I had a previously scheduled appointment with my internist on Wednesday I resisted following any of their advice. 

My internist diagnosed the leg pain as a plantaris muscle strain or pull. There’s dispute about how important the plantaris muscle is, but one thing’s for sure, he said—injury is not related to taking statins.

On another note, daughter-in-law Allison reminded me that not everyone should ingest nuts. Those with allergies, such as OUR GRANDSON FINLEY, should avoid all things nutty. Yeah, I forgot to update y’all that his allergy tests revealed he’s allergic to nuts. 

Mohs the Merrier. Not Really, But Better than the Alternative

The dermatologist shaved off another portion of my nose Tuesday, the first step in confirming my fourth basal cell carcinoma, the third on my proboscis (the fourth was on my forehead). At this rate no one will be able to tease me about having a big nose.

This time I suspected the worst. I had a slight bump at the flare of my left nostril. When I touched it my nose would sting. Initially, the doctor thought it was just a pimple, but upon deeper examination he agreed with my suspicion. So off to the lab went a piece of my schnozzola. Assuming it is a basal cell I'll undergo a Mohs procedure.

Some 20 years ago I was surprised when my first basal cell revealed itself. I had noticed some blood along the ridge of my nose after I showered and toweled dry. When it happened a second time I visited the dermatologist. A biopsy confirmed the carcinoma.

For those not familiar with basal cells they are the mildest form of skin cancer, usually contracted through exposure to the sun, often during one’s youth. Though I am careful when I go out these days, usually wearing a hat, during my childhood and throughout my teenage years I spent many hours each summer playing outdoors, often without wearing a shirt or hat or any sunscreen. Untreated, or if all the cells are not entirely removed, they can bore deeply into your body. When finally treated a face can be left with a disfigured nose, cheek or ear. A visit to a dermatological surgeon’s office can be like a walk past a circus freak show aisle.

Until the Mohs procedure was developed surgeons could not be certain how deep to make their incisions to extract all the basal cells. Using Mohs, doctors take off thin slivers of skin, each layer studied to determine if more carving is required. It takes about 15 seconds, if that long, to slice. You wait about 45 minutes for the evaluation. My first nose job I was lucky. One cut. Next time, not so lucky. Three cuts. A plastic surgeon had to sow up the area of that second excavation, shifting skin around from one part of my nose to the affected area. 

You might be wondering why I'm relating these private details. First, it's to imprint on you the need for annual check ups with a dermatologist. Basal cells generally won't kill you but other types of skin cancer, like melanoma, can if not discovered and treated in a timely manner.

Second, it's to educate you to the process which really begins with self examinations. This is one medical condition you can proactively monitor and combat. 

Third, as whimpy as it may appear, wear hats when the sun’s out, even during winter or when it’s cloudy. The sun’s rays penetrate the clouds. And don’t forget to slather your children and grandchildren with sunscreen. They might not appreciate it when they’re young but trust me, they’ll thank you by the time they get to be my age.