It took a couple weeks to get in with a dermatologic surgeon, but I finally got to see what this Mohs surgery was about. After having an unusual spot on my left thigh scraped not once, but twice, my dermatologist referred me to another doctor who would create a larger excision. She had found that there were some abnormal qualities to the skin after conducting a biopsy so they wanted to be certain it wasn't pre-melanoma. The procedure was pretty simple, they wouldn't have to put me out, but I wish they had considering I will never be able to unsee what I saw. YUCK. They started by drawing a 1.5 inch almond-shaped outline around the area they would need to test. Next thing ya know, they've got all these syringes out filled with lidocaine to numb the whole area. They poked me with those several dozen times to make sure I wouldn't feel the scalpel and off they went, cutting away. I made the mistake of glancing toward my leg where I saw myself cut open, fatty tissue and everything. It was one thing to be knocked out for a procedure and wake up totally oblivious to the slicing and dicing that just happened in the operating room, but it was another to watch it. Not exactly how I pictured myself in what could have been a scene out of Grey's Anatomy. I was not working alongside McDreamy nor was I saving lives in the ER, but instead the gross mess on the other end of the knife. All they had to do now was stitch me up and send me home. Another scar to add to the collection. Gosh, skin cancer's a blast.
I started my Monday off with a visit to the Kellogg Cancer Center with about 8,000 people who apparently had the same agenda. The place was packed. You would have thought Oprah was there giving cars away if you saw how people were lining up to get in. YOU get a cure and YOU get a cure! I noticed that all of the others had wrinkles and soft white hair, so I guess my light blonde was as close as I could come to fitting in. The crowd is on the more mature side, if you didn't already catch my drift. The nursing staff have to put up with a lot of complaining from people in the waiting room, luckily we can joke about their absurdity. So many of these people get extremely irritated when there are long wait times. I just want to shake them, like "HELLO, these people are working to save your life so show a little respect." Patience wouldn't hurt them either. They also like to glare at you if you come to the waiting room after them and get taken earlier. I mean please, we are all here for the same reason - to not be sick, so relax why don't you?
They took me back to a room where I waited to see my surgical oncologist. He was astounded by what he found and what he found, was that MY TUMORS WERE GONE! After only two infusions, this "miracle drug" seems to be pretty damn miraculous. The tumor had grown so big so quickly that it even became uncomfortable to lay on. It only a matter of time before I would have to name the thing and it was almost completely gone. We wouldn't know if I was totally cancer-free until PET scans and MRIs were done, but at least there had been progress. They told me I would most likely continue these infusions for another year unless I begin to develop symptoms characteristic of an auto-immune disease. Things are looking up. I've been feeling (and looking) extremely bloated again lately. My mom says it's the chemo so recently discovering that S'mores Oreos are actually a thing has nothing to do with it LOL. Oh, and eating like I'm going to the electric chair isn't the problem either. As time goes on, I've been feeling more and more like my normal self so I celebrate with a glass of wine or a cookie here and there. Sue me.
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