Fast forward to July 2018. My nose is still acting up. Let me give you a little background about my nose. It’s not a bad nose, but it’s had its fair share of issues. I have broken it before (I was attacked by a toilet seat when I was throwing up. I threw the seat up too hard, and it bounced off the tank and back down on my nose. On my wedding day in 1992. Don’t ask; its a long story.) From that catastrophe, I ended up with a deviated septum and couldn’t breathe out the right side. Had surgery four years ago to finally fix that. Then two years ago, I had sinus surgery for chronic sinus infections. So the nose has been traumatized over the years. Now we have this thing on the left side.
So, I finally make it back to the dermatologist on Friday, July 27, 2018. The nice lady doctor is not there, and instead, I get a nice man doctor. He asks me what brings me there? I started to tell him about the spot on my nose, and he lowers down the special binocular glasses on his head and takes a look. I mention that it’s been bleeding for years. He pulls the glasses back up and says “THAT is NOT good.” He says he is going to have to biopsy it and I think “Awesome! He’s not going to burn me with that can of crap this time. Winning!” Instead, he pulls out this needle from hell and comes towards my face with it as he says “This will sting a little….” HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!?! I am literally wincing, which turns into a full-fledged scream. It feels like he is injecting sulphuric acid into my nostril! Imagine this scenario. I am yelling, he practically has me in a head-lock to hold my head still, and every part of my body below my neck is scrambling trying to get to the door to get the hell out of dodge. I am sure it was 30 seconds or so, but it might as well have been an hour because I was losing my mind, FAST… He kept apologizing, but all I heard in my head was “If I punch him, that needle is going to rip my nose open…” I honestly can’t tell you how badly that hurt.
Once I was numb, I could feel him pushing my nose around, but that was it. It was done in just a few minutes. By this time, I have tears streaming down my left eye and snot coming down my nose. HOT MESS. He announces he is finished and I look down and see tears, snot, and blood were dripping on my gown. My hands are shaking so bad as I try to get my glasses back on (I cannot see anything without them; I am blinder than a bat.) He puts something on it that stops the bleeding and a band-aid. He says “I have been a doctor for 30 years and that looks like Basal Cell Carcinoma, a skin cancer.”
Ever heard a record scratch and all of a sudden everything is quiet? Cancer? Like, skin cancer?!?!? It’s just dry flaky skin that keeps getting irritated! It cant be CANCER!
He says the biopsy will take about a week and he will let me know when it comes back. I literally RAN out of that room, through the waiting room, outside to my car. I look in my mirror, and I have a round band-aid on my nose, my face is red, my eyes are red, my nose is red, and I just stare at myself in the mirror. Cancer? Are you freaking kidding me?
A little family history. All four of my grandparents had cancer. Two of them died from lung cancer. One died from liver cancer. One had tongue cancer. My father died from pancreatic cancer. And I know NOTHING about skin cancer. If there is one thing I am good at, it is research. I have my work cut out for me.
And I look like a complete dork with that round band-aid on my nose.