Friday, February 1, 2013

Lady Frankenstein vs. Lady Dork

Big news: I survived!

Thank you SO MUCH for the love and support you showered on me yesterday. You are kind and generous friends, and I am grateful beyond words.

It took about three hours, my lovely surgeon removed only two layers (though my wound looks pretty deep to me, so a "layer" is apparently more than peels off when you have a sunburn), and the only thing that hurt was the first two numbing shots (which HURT); after that, I felt nothing but a lot of tugging. My surgeon said, "Which was worse, shot 1 or shot 2?" and I said, "They both sucked," and she laughed. Apparently, I also sang as she injected me, "La-la-LA-LA-LA-la-LA!!," my voice getting louder as the pain intensified, and only when she said, "I like the singing, that's a new approach," did I even realize I was doing it. And no, I wasn't on any kind of happy gas or funny pill, this was all me.

My wound is the size and shape of a black bean, and the color of, well, blood. It is not pretty. However, it's also significantly smaller than a dime, so I don't have to wear the giant gauze-and-adhesive covering that I'd feared; I can cover it with a round Band-Aid (and a dollop of Vaseline, I've been ordered to keep it "moist" and to prevent a scab from forming). And I am allowed to cover it; for some reason, I'd thought that I wasn't.

SO: I'm not stitched and scarred (yet) a la Lady Frankenstein; however, with this quarter-sized Band-Aid in the middle of my face, I do look like a giant dork. Husband keeps telling me it's not so bad, but he and I have a very different sense of what's acceptable; he wears a sleep mask every night because of his sleep apnea, so he wakes up (and goes about) with big red marks on his face, whereas if I had to wear this mask I would get up two hours before I needed to, just so the marks would fade before I went out to face the world — yawning, sleep-deprived, and snappish, but clear-skinned.

To me, the dork bandage is akin to a big glob of adhesive tape around my glasses or a chip out of my front tooth. I am not my pretty, put-together self, and it bugs me.

But I'm glad that I don't have cancer, and this too shall pass.

And I am going to go hear Husband give a presentation tonight, out in public, dork bandage and all. I will be a model of maturity and character, as I muster my wits and hold my head high.

Still, this healing period can't pass quickly enough.

In other news . . .

The Bloggess spoke to ME today!!!!

You can read her whole post on the topic, but the gist of it is that she's renaming all the states that start with “M,” and Massachusetts is now “Tater-Tots.” I'm open to this . . . except I don't quite get it. What's do Tater-Tot have to do with Massachusetts? So I left her a comment:
I totally support your right to rename the M states (MO for Missouri is crazytown; it should be MZ because of how it’s pronounced — and we could spell it M’Zouri! Oooh, that looks really cool), but I’m feeling stupid because I don’t get Tater-Tots for Massachusetts. Is it just completely random, or does my true-blue Puritan state have a Tater-Tot connection of which I’m unaware? We are the home of New England Boiled Dinner, not to mention the bean and the cod. Tater-Tots . . . so exotic.
And she responded!!!!!
(I just like Tater-Tots. ~ Jenny)
Granted, this isn't exactly "Gosh, you're cool! Let's hang out and have cocktails and be BFFs!", unless you are way better at parsing for subtext than I am, but I was still very tickled.

Oh! Oh! That reminds me (and I know you're curious):
  • Me: Not that I'm obsessed or anything, but how soon can I have a glass of wine? Like, in hours?
  • Surgeon (gives me a searching look)
  • Me: OK, I'm a little obsessed.
  • Surgeon: Well . . . you can probably have one tonight.
  • Me (squealing)
  • Surgeon: A small one!
  • Me (continuing to squeal)
  • Nurse: A few sips!
  • Surgeon: And if you have to go to the emergency room, we never had this conversation.
I did have a glass, a very small glass, of Chardonnay, and I sipped it over the course of an hour, and it was liquid gold. And Husband brought me Thai food for dinner, so yummy, and I had one of my favorite desserts, a bowl of good vanilla ice cream topped with maple syrup and a handful of walnuts, a combo that always reminds me of my favorite crepe from The Crepe Place, beloved (and long-gone) Santa Cruz hangout of my college days. And I did nothing but read books and watch movies all day, and my kids and cats came in to cuddle with me, and I have beautiful fresh flowers in my bedroom courtesy of Good Neighbor Anne, and my besty in California, Lady Darcy, sent me a long newsy letter via FedEx, and I got lots of cards and phone calls and e-mails, and it was just a very lovely healing afternoon.

I can't exercise for a week (the Italian Spitfire was skeptical, so I asked my surgeon for a note) and Zanzibar and I had planned to start our Month of Boot Camp today, so for the first week we are going to concentrate on healthy food and mindful eating. She's recovering from strep throat anyway; we both need some healing time.

(On the topic of healthy food, here's a question: If you ordered Brussels Sprout Stew, what color would you expect this dish to be? See below for the answer, or at least Madrona Tree's answer.)

OK — enough for now. It's one of those days where I have lots of little things I could do but nothing big or urgent that I have to do, so I'm feeling rather aimless. Time to focus!

TGIF! Happy weekend, my friends!

—Lady C of Tator-Tots, trying to rise above her essential dorkiness 

Answer to the Brussels Sprout Stew question: I was prepared for green or yellow or light brown, but it was in fact . . . red. And it was quite tasty, but I was surprised.


  1. You are totally famous!!! She talked to you?!? SHE talked to you!!!! I know a bloggy famous person :-)

    That said, I'm so glad that the procedure went well and that wine is back in your life. I had to have a skin cancer removed just below my ear and it was the same procedure - keep it moist, keep it covered, no scabbing. I feel your pain! But it's not cancerous anymore, which is wonderful news!

    1. I KNOW!!! I actually thought of you and your girl crush right away, knowing how tickled you'd be for me. Were you able to glean the word "soulmate" from her response? I'm still working on it.

      And yay to both of us for being cancer-free!!

  2. I say Mi-ZUR-ee and TenneSEE, but I know natives from those states and they pronounce it Mi-ZUR-uh and TENN-esee. Even Al Gore puts the accent on the first syllable. I don't know how he pronounces Missouri. :)

    1. Wow - I've heard Mi-ZUR-uh (and have been saying it ever since you wrote, so I sound worldly and in the know) but I have literally never heard someone stress the first syllable of Tennessee (and I really want to! It sounds so strange to me). Clearly I don't pay close enough attention to Al Gore. :) I am now obsessed. (Katie P, if you're reading my comments, will you weigh in on this one? You live in Nashville, right? Do you and your neighbors say TENN-esee? Crazytown.)

  3. I know I should comment about more important things -- and I try to but my iPad is less than accommodating on this at night. But today, checking to see how you are doing post-Mohs, from work, I can tell you that the Crepe Place is alive and well living in the Seabright area. Lovely garden, same food, same slow service. If you ever visited Santa Cruz again, you would know this (and if I were around to show you).

    Glad it went well and that the hole in your face is (relatively) itsy bitsy. Some day, I'll tell you the story of someone else I know who had this and how he emailed embedded post-op pictures to everyone he knows -- his was not black-bean sized, more like kidney-shaped pool sized. Then showed up at a meeting with ever MORE pictures on his iPad, just in case the email pictures weren't enough.

    Oops, just told you the story.

    Miss you loads & thanks for letting me spend a little time with you each day,
    J (for whom placement of the hyphens above gave fits and she still probably got them wrong.)

    1. Hi my sweet Dumpling! I am KICKING MYSELF about The Crepe Place! It wasn't in the same location (and I think Kel and I had heard that it closed) so we didn't even bother to look it up the last time we were in Santa Cruz (and you weren't there to overhear our lament and correct us). Oh, man. The next time I come visit you, I MUST go. And it looks like they still have my old favorite on the menu, though I don't remember the bananas ("Pure Delight," HUM.

      Yesterday my doc showed me my "Before" picture, i.e., the new hole on the day it appeared, and good Lord it is hideous. I can't imagine sharing it with anyone. I want her to burn it. Guys are so weird.

    2. "HUM" was supposed to be "YUM." Though perhaps I'm humming without knowing it; apparently I do that. :)

  4. I laughed when I read about the singing thing but I can totally relate. Well, slightly. I've never had a piece of my nose removed. But I kind of make the same sound when I'm carrying hot things.

    I'm glad the procedure went well. Cheers to your health!

    1. Thanks, doll. I read your comment to my kids and they laughed. Now we all sing wordlessly while carrying dishes from the kitchen to the dining-room table. Lady, you've started something!

  5. Replies
    1. Thank you, sweetpea! See my latest post -- apparently, my ability to heal quickly and well reaches *super hero* levels! I am The Healer. I'm planning my costume now.