Friday, November 4, 2011

Call me a cockeyed optimist

Or is it negativist?

I'm not sure about this. I guess I'm a little of both, some days optimistic and some days negative.

One thing's for sure, though. I am definitely cockeyed.

I had the Mohs procedure in Boston on Wednesday, and, although it was successful, it was more complicated than I expected. The surgeon took what they call two "passes," meaning he removed a layer of the cancerous tissue (squamous cell) under my eye and then repeated the procedure because he didn't get all of it the first time.

After he had numbed up the area around my eye and removed the tissue, I waited about 45 minutes so he could see if he had gotten all of it. Most people sit in the waiting room, but since I needed to have my head back, I waited in the chair. That really wasn't so bad. I just took a nap.

When he came back in, he said some was still left, so he repeated the process again. After the second round, he said that he had gotten it all. One of the nurses told me it can take up to five passes, so I guess I did pretty well.

Next I went upstairs in the same building to the repair shop, where I got into a room quickly and then proceeded to wait there for an hour and a half.

When the doctor finally came in, she numbed up the area all around my eye with multiple injections, the only part of the procedure that hurt.

She handed me a mirror so I could see the little hole right under my tear duct. Yup, it was a hole alright.

The repair involved taking a skin graft from under my eyebrow and stitching it over the hole.

"You're getting a free eye-lift," the doctor joked as she worked.

Excuse me? On one eye?

Afraid to move my head, I didn't want to talk, but I did have to ask if that would end up looking a little strange.

She said that it wouldn't make that much of a difference, but we could reevaluate it when I healed.

So does insurance pay for an eye lift to balance you out? Just wondering.

She also put a stent in to open up my tear duct, which the surgeon had apparently needed to slice. She finished by sewing a piece of cotton called a ballast over the graft and onto my skin. I go back next week to have the ballast removed.

What with the wad of cotton, the stitches under my eyebrow and the overall swelling, it is not a pretty picture.


PJ said...

Ugh. Can't wait for my surgery although it's not near the eye which must be a much more delicate procedure. I'm at DF Tuesday. When do you go back?

Anonymous said...

You are always Glorious and Gorgeous, Runder-Woman!

Nelle said...

It's amazing what they can do. If the eye doesn't match noone but you would probably ever notice but if you're like me, you would point it out to everyone! Hope this is the last eye surgery you will need.