Monday, December 15, 2008

Pequena Sirugia

I'm really going to try to keep this short...

I was born a moley guy.

Lots of moles. Head to toe.

Today I have three less, but perhaps only one less than I was born with.

You see, I once had a mole checked out as I have heard that they can go mean on you and cause skin cancer. That particular mole didn't turn out to be a problem, but the doctor told me what to watch out for. So when I noticed a dark, somewhat irregular splotch in the vicinity of my belly button I decided to get it checked out. This second doctor confirmed that it was probably a good idea to get it removed, and she found another that she was suspicious about. Those two, plus a third that was so raised that it would bother me when I was training Capoeira or even taking a shower were slated for removal. That removal happened this evening.

Let me say that I'm actually quite fond of my moles. I figure they're the closest things I'll ever get to tattoos, so I like them. I was actually going to get the mole on my upper lip removed when I was in high school because I kept cutting it open when shaving, but in retrospect I'm glad I didn't, even if I still cut it open from time to time. I'm a little surprised I even considered it because moles on the upper lip were a big thing at the time, consider Madonna and the ladies from the Human League- I'm not sure those were even natural moles. I even considered getting a tiny tattoo at one point of a little circle that would look just like a mole, except it was a circle. Pretty subtle. And pretty silly. Anyhow it never happened.

I wasn't real nervous about getting the moles sliced off until right before it actually happened- I hate needles and scalpels and avoid them at all costs. As I lay there sweating in the air conditioning I thought about someone who is very dear to me who loves needles and scalpels and got a massive 'cutting' all over his stomach and legs, without anesthesia. Probably more than 100 times the knife time and he did it for fun. He paid the guy to do it. He talks about how it's a big spiritual experience and all the rest and the way I figure is that I prefer to find my spiritual experiences in other ways. Like sleeping. Personally I think he enjoys the pain, or enjoys dominating the pain, or something like that. I was telling another heavily tattooed friend of mine about this and his response was "Fuck that, I hate the pain. Every time I get a tattoo I think, man, what the hell am I doing this for? It hurts! I like the result but I hate getting the tattoos."

I digress, as usual. But that's what makes my posts interesting, right? Unless you prefer I just write straight up stories about my license plates and dead neighbors. I could put a poll in the sidebar: "What kind of posts do you prefer?"

Never going to happen.

I did say I was going to keep this short. After the painkiller, which I thoroughly hated, the slicing was... painless... but the stitching up part was very unpleasant. Not because I could feel it, although I did feel it a bit near the edges, but because it was taking way too long and my imagination is way too vivid. I know they've got these rigs now where you can watch your own surgery happen on a monitor- no thank you. Not that it was an option. Actually, before I was prepped all the seedy detail in the office came into glaring focus- the old computer on its saggy particle board workstation, the awkward chopping up of a once large and elegant space into smaller offices, the godawful spackling job right over my head as I was getting stitched. I had to remind myself that these guys came recommended (by a somewhat dotty dermatologist) and had a good reputation (they did a boob job for one of the dancers for the group Tchan, and were really surprised that I didn't know her name. I think she's the brunette in this video. Here in Brazil people brag about their plastic surgery).

At one point the guy started circling all the moles on my back with his fancy blue pen- hold on there mister doctor! Three is plenty (remember I said I like my moles).

So now they're gone and now I'm home and all is well. I wonder if they'll hurt when the anesthetic wears off.

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