The Mole
Back in November 2014, I went to the dermatologist to get a mole removed off my back. The mole ended up being "abnormal" but "nothing to worry about." At least that's what the nurse told me. But the pathology report--which I requested to have sent to me--said this: "There is proliferation of focally atypical melanocytes at the junction, singly and in nests that focally bridge between ridges. The underlying dermis shows fibroplasia and patchy lymphocytic infiltration. The dysplasia is moderate. The changes are occurring within a compound nevus. The lesion extends to a lateral margin."
I'm not a physician, but warning bells sounded because of two phrases: 1. atypical melanocytes, and 2. extends to a lateral margin. Anything involving melanocytes ignites the fear of melanoma inside of me, and the fact that the specimen wasn't all taken out? Well sign me up for an excision.
The original mole measured 13 mm across. It was brown-black and ugly, but it hadn't grown unruly. It just looked bad. And, it tingled. Yes, that might sound funny, but the mole tingled when I pressed it, and I read an article that said tingling = bad. So here I was this morning, with a small bit of mole present, but a large circle of where it used to be. I thought I'd run into the office, have the little thing cut out (I knew they'd go deeper than the first doctor did, but I didn't really know what I was in for) and move on with my life.
After waiting 20 minutes past my appointment time to even be brought into the examining room, I didn't have to wait long for the doctor. But he had to wait for me, because the amount of lidocaine needed to numb up that region of me was more than we expected. This occurrence should not have surprised me. The girls were born by c-section with me under general anesthesia because the epidural didn't take. The mole I had taken off a month ago? I felt the sharpness of the needle for far longer than I should have. So today, as I continued to feel the pin point against my skin, I thought to myself, here we go again. As we neared the upper limit of lidocaine for my body weight, I began to wonder how my systems would react to so much local anesthetic. And in that instant, I finally felt a sensation of pressure instead of sharp.
I'll spare the details. And I'll spare what the piece of skin looked like, but only because I didn't think to ask for a picture of it. But I will tell you what the slice looked like: a diamond that measured 11 cm across and at least 3 cm wide. Sweet bacon crackers! I wasn't expecting quite that much of me to go. Twenty-three stitches later, and here we are:
After all that lidocaine, I didn't feel much for much of the day. In fact, it wasn't until 5 p.m. that my back started to regain feeling, which means the pain started to set in. I'm thinking that with 23 stitches, I can end up with a might nice scar. Now if only I had a better story to go with it.
I'm not a physician, but warning bells sounded because of two phrases: 1. atypical melanocytes, and 2. extends to a lateral margin. Anything involving melanocytes ignites the fear of melanoma inside of me, and the fact that the specimen wasn't all taken out? Well sign me up for an excision.
The original mole measured 13 mm across. It was brown-black and ugly, but it hadn't grown unruly. It just looked bad. And, it tingled. Yes, that might sound funny, but the mole tingled when I pressed it, and I read an article that said tingling = bad. So here I was this morning, with a small bit of mole present, but a large circle of where it used to be. I thought I'd run into the office, have the little thing cut out (I knew they'd go deeper than the first doctor did, but I didn't really know what I was in for) and move on with my life.
After waiting 20 minutes past my appointment time to even be brought into the examining room, I didn't have to wait long for the doctor. But he had to wait for me, because the amount of lidocaine needed to numb up that region of me was more than we expected. This occurrence should not have surprised me. The girls were born by c-section with me under general anesthesia because the epidural didn't take. The mole I had taken off a month ago? I felt the sharpness of the needle for far longer than I should have. So today, as I continued to feel the pin point against my skin, I thought to myself, here we go again. As we neared the upper limit of lidocaine for my body weight, I began to wonder how my systems would react to so much local anesthetic. And in that instant, I finally felt a sensation of pressure instead of sharp.
I'll spare the details. And I'll spare what the piece of skin looked like, but only because I didn't think to ask for a picture of it. But I will tell you what the slice looked like: a diamond that measured 11 cm across and at least 3 cm wide. Sweet bacon crackers! I wasn't expecting quite that much of me to go. Twenty-three stitches later, and here we are:
After all that lidocaine, I didn't feel much for much of the day. In fact, it wasn't until 5 p.m. that my back started to regain feeling, which means the pain started to set in. I'm thinking that with 23 stitches, I can end up with a might nice scar. Now if only I had a better story to go with it.
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