Ok, so I went to the dermatologist to have a “biopsy” about… meh, six or so months ago. One of my nifty little vampyre bite moles on my chest was disappearing and (considering genetics) it caused me no small amount of worry.
When they were ready for me (apparently after seeing how long I could wait without breaking down into tears of boredom) they ushered me into this yellow looking room and told me to undress my top half and put on a paper towel-esque garment.
So I lay down on the table that I know they took straight out of the Silent Hill hospital and the nurse started to numb me… on the wrong mole. Why I didn’t run screaming out of the offices and hide under my bed for a week is beyond me.
After clearing up what part of my body to numb, in comes
Dr. ImTooRushedToSpendVeryLongWithYou... ButYouShouldBeThankfulForEveryMomentYouHaveWithMe...
ForIAmWOnderfull.
I was reclining during the procedure so I couldn’t see what was going on, but from my sister’s account Dr. TooRushed took out a cookie cutter like object and started wheedling it down into my chest. I could feel the pressure from the tunneling as she did this. Obviously she took out WAY too much tissue.
After totally REMOVING my mole (Hey, I thought I was in here for a small biopsy?!) and half of my underlying muscle layer, she began stitching me up. Good thing I was numbed, right?
They didn’t even do that correctly. Out of five stitches total, I felt all the outside stitches (just three, but that still is not pleasant). She even bungled one of them, went “oops” and ripped it out to start again.
But, whatever. That isn’t my problem. My issue with Dr. DoNothing is that she made a circle in my chest… and tried to stitch that up. You can NOT make a neat closure out of a circle… simple geometry.
After brutally closing me she handed me a brown paper bag and mumbled something about ointment and ran from the room like I hadn’t brushed my teeth in a month.
Needless to say I have an icky pink scar on my chest where my pair of cute vamppy bite moles used to reside. It even had eyelashes where she allowed the stitches to grow into the skin (she waited 13 days to check up on me again).
I get to go see her wed morning (with my enraged father -- he happens to be a medical doctor -- and very fiery mother). I almost feel sorry for Dr. Wench.
Almost.
5 comments:
at this moment, I fear for the lives of those in the warpath of you and your parents. May the blood of your enemies be easy to clean up, so as not to punish those who simply work there :)
OMG you have a real blog!!1
You are in trouble now :) I'm an internet celebrity, you know. I hope you're enjoying the penguins!!1 Isn't the interweb grand??
My doctor is all toobusytoansweranyofmyquestions, and sorryforthewaitthingsarerealbusy. Jerks :P
Or i get the Ican'tcutthatoffyouneedit doctors. Those are the worst :P
heya pingous how was ur Wednesday morning on the warpath with ur Mums and Dads :)
i read ur remark on my blog, peace out , write me whenever you can :)
haveya guessed who dis is yet?
Hey, f*ck you, pennystockinvestment. You've spammed my blog 3 times now, and I can see I'm not alone.
</psycho rage>
So... why didn't you just have your dad do it then?
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