... No, this wasn't said to me by The Old Girl this morning although she has said it a lot in the past but has now given me up as a lost cause - it was said to me by the doctor at the local surgery I went to.
I mentioned a few posts back that I'd had a check out of possible skin cancer problems at Mole Map and was referred to my local GP for follow-up. Nothing was cancerous but a few lesions (the medical people have some much bigger names to describe these) were identified as requiring ointments and one surgical removal. I applied the prescribed ointment to those indicated and waited for the appointment for surgical removal of the one on my rear shoulder. That appointment was this morning which, by chance was the same morning that an old ex-schoolteacher went on a blogging campaign via posts and comments wondering why I had neither posted or commented! Oh well, it's nice to be wanted I suppose although Ronnie Biggs might disagree.
I had my doctor's appointment first thing this morning and dressed in my best shorts and T-shirt and clean underwear*. When I took my T-shirt off and the doc had a look he said that he couldn't find the 'lesion' that had earlier (6 weeks ago) been identified and that it seemed to have disappeared. I asked him if that was a good thing and he, thankfully, replied that yes, it was a good thing. I then told him about a 'lesion' that I had just recently become aware of on my front shoulder that was itchy. He looked at it and said that it was a XXZVBBGBLURGH or something and not of concern but that he could remove it by freezing it.
"OK" I thought why not go for it I said. He then said that as no 'knife-work' was needed on the 'lesion' that I'd come in for, for removal that he'd freeze a few more 'lesions'.
"OK" I thought wondering if I'd stepped into a maniac's laboratory.
While he was away (he'd stepped out of the surgery to, I assume retrieve his 'freezing apparatus') I engaged with the nurse-assistant who had remained with me to, I assume prevent me from escaping through the window.
"Freezing?" I burbled, trying to sound both calm and interested.
"Yes" she said. "No knife-work today".
I looked at her closely - not too closely as she was an attractive woman and, you know - 'Me Too' - but couldn't discern anything out of hand except for her nervously fiddling with the equipment.
"Here we go" announced the doctor as he waltzed in with a formidable-looking container that was a spray bottle filled with liquid nitrogen.
He sprayed, in small bursts, the super-frozen nitrogen on the spots on my shoulder (front and back), my head (scalp), another shoulder (as yet unidentified) all the while inviting the nurse-assistant to come closer to have a look.
"You have to be careful with this stuff" he said " as if one sprays too long and too wide it causes problems".
To demonstrate he sprayed a big spray on to the vinyl couch I was sitting on and it froze a huge area which then kind of puckered up and changed colour. He then sprayed a tiny point on to another section which I guess froze it but didn't pucker it OR FUCKING KILL IT!
"There you go" he said.
"Bloody hell” I thought.
When he'd finished and I was dressed and leaving he said.
"You are a work In progress".
I thanked him and quickly moved off to reception to pay for the treatment ($79) and, while waiting for the receipt (which enables me to be reimbursed by AA Insurance) overheard my nurse- assistant conversing with other staff members.
"So, how'd the knife-work go?” asked an admin staffer.
"No knife-work unfortunately, Doc used nitrogen" she replied.
I scooted out of there.
* I actually wear clean underwear every day and have a great selection of Swanndri ones in red, blues and greens.