A nose biopsy has messed with my head

So I’m sitting here wishing the dermatologist would call, but I know I’m going to be anxious when he does, so maybe I’m not in a hurry for him to call after all, don’t quite know.

Possible skin cancer has that effect on me. Not that I’ve ever faced that before. But it makes me want to run away and hide until the “all clear” is sounded. Hoping that it’s actually an “all clear,” and not, “the biopsy came back positive.”

If I hear that, I don’t care if it’s basal cell, as opposed to the other types of skin cancer I don’t even want to mention, I’m going to freak out, no matter how hard I try to play it cool.

With health-related issues, anxiety is always part of the package.

Especially when one has to wait seven to 10 days for the results of a biopsy.

In this modern age, we, me included, want it “Now, now, now, now.”

What I do know is I wish this nose (expletive) was behind me.

There on the right side, halfway down my nose. At first, the doc thought he could freeze it off. Since that didn’t work, he had to remove a bit of skin and tissue and send it to the lab.

This getting older (expletive) sure isn’t for wussies, and I know I’m not the first person to say that very same thing.

Even if you keep the weight off, you have to start looking at how much added sugar you consume daily, how much caffeine you ingest, how much sodium, how much nicotine if you vape e-cigs.

I liked it better when I was younger and didn’t have to worry about any of this stuff.

Skin cancer, though. What killed one of my faves, Jimmy Buffett, the son of a son of a sailor.

Even if skin cancer doesn’t kill you, it can scar you for life.

Especially when it involves the nose.

The Snowbird Tale

It wouldn’t be so bad if that snowbird woman hadn’t told me the story about her husband years ago. Trouble is, the story stuck in my head like a bad taco from a dodgy street vendor who’s got needle marks on both arms.

The old-school Monitor photographer, Lui Garcia, Jr., had a photo like that – one you might not want to see, but at least Luis would first ask you if you wanted to see it.

What was it?

Back in the 1960s, would have to check for the exact date, some crazy guy showed up at the Hidalgo County Courthouse with a bomb. He was upset over a divorce, I think is how the story went.

He was there to blow up one of the courts – with his soon-to- be ex-wife in it, I think but the bomb detonated prematurely, and the only person, if I remember right, who suffered any lasting damage was the guy with the bomb.

Luis was there that day and took a photo of what was left of the guy lying in the hallway of the second floor. Let’s just say the body parts were in disarray.

No, I didn’t really want to see that photo, but surprisingly enough, even without seeing it, based on its description, I can still envision it, and it had to look pretty nasty, what with the…never mind.

With the snowbird woman, my wife and I ran into her while waiting inside a doctor’s office.

For some reason, maybe golf came up, who knows, but the woman starts explaining to us in gory, graphic detail about how her husband had this spot on his nose, which turned out to be skin cancer, and when the surgeons were cutting on it to remove it, not yet knowing how deep the cancer had spread, you don’t even want to know the rest.

Why she felt the need to tell us that story, who knows.

I wanted to tell her, why do you feel the need to tell anyone such a horrific story?

Because I could picture her husband, how he ended up, and why did I need to hear that?

I didn’t, but it’s probably why I’m worried about getting back these biopsy results, and it’s probably why it’s playing with my head.

Good health. More valuable than all the gold in the world.