Squamous

I don’t enjoy being cut open and am comfortable knowing most people share my distaste. It’s more than the fear of needles, or the smell of hospitals - neither bother me in the slightest. Needles leave tiny holes compared to the slice of the blade and only the weakest get wobbly knees from hospital smells. But the idea of being cut open is nauseating. Worse still is knowing you’ll be cut open again in the near future. In the same spot.

When my cell phone rang this afternoon displaying the number of my dermatologist I got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The kind you get when the seminary teacher calls and asks to speak with your mother. Two days ago as I left his office he was very clear, “I’ll only call you if the biopsies I took today come back positive. No news is good news.”

Apparently I’ve been diagnosed with cancer and will require additional surgery to rid my body of its harmful effects. “Squamous Cell Carcinoma is the second most common form of Skin cancer,” the nurse assured me. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But it is cancer we’re talking about, right?”

“Well, yes but there are lots of types of cancer and this one’s not serious. Besides, the doctor got most of it and will only need to take a small portion more. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Small portion? This is a term I use when dishing up food or doling out allowance and in my book should not be used when referring to taking a chunk out of my forearm. I’m scheduled to go under the knife next Thursday, October 11th at 3:00pm and am considering having Linda attend the procedure with a video camera. I’ve got a documentary approach in mind but if anyone is interested in a more artistic perspective, please let me know before next Tuesday. Apparently I may need to provide a one-day advance notice to my Dermatologist for legal reasons.

Wish me luck on this painful journey,
Christian