Sunday, March 26, 2017

Hot time under the blue light

Under the blue light before PDT
While I was waiting for the blue light to become available on Thursday (another dermatology patient was using it for PDT), I talked to Dr. Lin (Jennifer) while she biopsied what she calls "little guys." Three of them.

I asked why she doesn't call them little girls.

No particular reason, though when it comes to little girls I enjoyed seeing the video of her eight-month-old little girl laughing her head off about something.

I popped an oxy because I had them in my purse; Melissa said I should take one before ECP (which I had the day before) so that I won't have to deal with pain if the needle slips. I might not have to do that anymore because the new angio needle is working nicely.

I figured if I was going to get three needles in sensitive areas and have pain afterwards, it was a reasonable thing to do.

Note to anyone who thinks this is strange: Oxycodone is actually preferable for me than Tylenol (bad for liver) and ibuprofen and the rest (bad for kidney).

One biopsy on my right calf – a raised and irritated area that she already said was probably a squamous cell after a sent her a photo. And which will probably need another Mohs.

One on the top of my head.

The other on the knuckle of my thumb. Same as happened before with the spot on my ankle (which turned out to be a big deal needing a graft) I had shown this spot that didn't heal to a couple of people who said it was nothing. Note: A spot that doesn't heal is always something.

After all the trouble I had with my last one, it has finally healed. On time to get another. They're getting to know me well at the Mohs Surgery Center at Faulkner Hospital.

My first question when it was done was how long I would need to sit out of tennis. The one on my calf isn't that big but because I have stitches on my thumb, she said about a week.

Although these are a pain, they are not serious except to my mind.

I found out about someone who died from a melanoma that had appeared on the person's neck.

Suddenly the spot on my scalp was a melanoma too...which in my PTSD-y way I followed quickly to my demise. I reasoned out loud to Katie that since I didn't have melanoma in the morning, I probably didn't have it at night after hearing about the other person. Wise child reminded me that just because someone else gets something, doesn't mean I (or anyone other than the person) will get the same thing. Wise friend who had a melanoma and had it successfully removed reminded me that since I'm watched so carefully, they would catch it early before it spread.

I find out in about the week.

The lovely photo of me (wearing my Bev Bloomberg watch) is under the blue light machine at the Brigham Dermatology Center for the photodynamic therapy (PDT) that burns off a layer of skin. I get this done every year. Dr. Lin did it more on my neck because more "little guys" are trying to come up there than on my face, which she said looks pretty good. (All things considered...my addition.) The 16 minutes doesn't sting as much on the neck as on the face.

I had estimated that the driver should come at 4. When he called to check in, I said it was an estimate. When I realized it would be later due to the waiting line for the blue light machine, I called and said it would likely be another 15 minutes.

"Don't leave without me!" I said, remembering a couple of times when that had happened.
He assured me that he wouldn't.

I turned off the sound on my phone during the procedure. When I went to look at around 4:20, I saw that he had called five times and texted once. I called back and said I was coming. He groused, "You said it would be 15 minutes."

When I got in the car he complained some more.

"I never should have taken this job," he said.

He said he is 60 and too old to have to take the trip at the end of the day because he wouldn't get home to Worcester until 9 and was up at 4:30 and they shoulda put the younger person on the earlier shift.

I started to put on my headphones to listen to All Things Considered, but he kept talking.

The phone rang and he had a conversation (while driving). He said it was his son. Then he apologized and said his life is hard because his wife left him after 30 years because she couldn't handle their son, who has Asperger's. Knowing a little bit about this, I asked a question about the spectrum, and, apparently thinking this was a place, he said his son can't get treatment there or anywhere.

On the first leg of the trip the day before, I had a nice polite driver from Kenya. He told me he wants to start his own transportation company because the others are poorly run.

At first I thought this would be another doozy because when we started driving and I asked him to close his window because it was blowing on my face, he complained.

They had given him a bad car where the heat is not regulated and if he didn't open the window he would overheat. Please open the window, I said. We made a compromise and went on to have some political chitchat.

He said he is a liberal but didn't vote for either presidential candidate because both were corrupt, especially Hillary Clinton, who shared classified information on a personal server and put the country at risk.

Not a good conversation to have before getting your blood pressure taken. I pointed out that it wasn't classified, but I didn't want to get into a debate about the FAKE news and FALSE equivalency that got us into this mess.

He asked if I wanted him to lower the headrest on the passenger seat so I could look out at the view. I said that was OK, I had seen enough of the Mass Pike.

At least I had some material to tell my nurse friends at the Kraft Blood Donor Center at Dana-Farber, where I would be for the next three hours for the light therapy.

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