The Stupid Appraiser

  Bright and early Thursday morning RK took me down to the Dr.’s office for the Moh’s surgery. It was going to take a fair amount of time, so he returned home to await the call to come and get me. I was not the least bit nervous about the procedure, in fact the relief I felt at finally having this dealt with almost made me giddy!

  I was prepped, very comfortable in a fully adjustable examination chair, calves resting on a grounding plate, sterile covers all over and a few stinging shots of local anesthetic around the mouth and nose already providing promising relief.

  It seemed like an eterrnity before the Dr. and his surgical team gathered to get serious with me. A very calm team, everybody knew exactly what needed to be done, when and how and by whom. You could not ask for a better team. The Dr. started carving away at my lip, it felt quite strange since it was completely numb but I could feel the tugging. Fortunately, I couldn’t see any of it (I’m not good with watching live meat being cut, even on TV). When the first cutting session was done, the wound was cauterized - gaaack! The smell of my own flesh searing right under my nose was highly unpleasant… Tissue samples were then tested to determine whether further cutting would be needed. The testing takes a fair amount of time, so I semi-napped for a bit.

  After two more cutting sessions, the tissue samples finally tested clean. Some serious cauterizing followed to insure the integrity of the wound until the following morning when I was scheduled for my re-constructive surgery at the hospital. I won’t want BBQ for a while - that smell is still in my nose.

  Before the Dr. left the room to let his staff wrap me up, I asked if I could see “it”. “Are you sure you want to?” he asked. “No, but YES, I really want to see the extent of it”. I got handed a hand-mirror - e-gad! Half my upper teeth were hanging in the breeze with half the lip gone, and of course everything was still kind of bloody… OK, I admit to being shocked - but not horrified. I had no idea that the wound was going to be that big. but it was also reassuring - the Dr. cut until he was satisfied that all the cancer was gone.

  The wonderful, gentle staff proceeded to wrap me up with pressure bandages held in place by “flesh colored” tape. By the time they were done with me I pretty much had an addition at the front of my face - very snout-like.

  RK’s chauffeuring services were called upon, and he was forewarned about the somewhat rearranged facial features of his wife. He looked concerned when he picked me up, but he could also see my elation behind the exhaustion and mummy wrappings. I rested and gathered up necessities for the hospital the next morning. And I kept waiting for PAIN. No pain. Really. No pain.

  It was a good day!

posted 02/28/10

  Time flies when you’re having fun - can’t believe it’s been nearly 4 months since my surgery. It really has flown by, strange as that may sound. It was such an uplifting experience, a new beginning - the end (at least the beginning of the end) of the depression. So much to adjust to thanks to the new outlook - and thanks to the new facial arrangement, too.

  The news, back in September, was not good (as noted in a previous entry). The first physician I went to took one look at my lip and exclaimed that it was beyond what he had resources to deal with and sent me with an urgent referral to what turned out to be the most wonderful physician one could ever hope for. This first step took place on the 11th - my very own 9/11, now. I called for an appointment with the second physician right away - and the soonest he could see me was, I believe, October 9th! What followed was probably the worst few weeks of my life (physically, anyway) - the “thing” was by now truly bothersome, aside from being ugly (but that I was used to!), and it was getting worse.

  Finally the day of the 1st appointment dawned with a mix of dread and excitement. This most gentle and non-judgemental physician knew at first glance what it was and what needed to be done. Surgery was scheduled for the soonest opening: December 5th!!! Oh, GOD - I shall be totally insane by then.

  Meanwhile, that gives me some time to figure out how I’m going to pay for this. The office got me quotes from the various entities that would be providing the services - GULP. Time to dig into the IRA, sigh.

  Then - the Dr.’s office calls and says the Doctor wants to move the surgery up, by one week. YAY - maybe I can keep a smidgeon of sanity, after all. But - now there’s a bit of a time crunch to get the money arranged - the bank always likes to collect a bit of interest on incoming funds for a day or three, and in order for the hospital to give me the nice, hefty discount for cash payment, they want it up front. I’m sure stressing over that kind of crap really helps an advanced cancer…

  Well, my wonderful financial advisor worked his type of magic and somehow the bank “forgot” to be greedy, and the funds were in and available the day before the surgery. Whew! That provided instant relaxation and gave me confidence that everything was going to be OK.

  What started the ball rolling, after all these many, many years of living with my “lip thing”? TWITTER! A wonderful fellow appraiser and I have become good on-line friends on Twitter - both in-stream and via DM - and she said the magic words that made me snap out of the void I was living in! I still don’t think she realizes how fundamentally important those few words were, expressed sincerely but lacking the knowledge of the extent of the state I was in.
  @ellawissa is my life-saver, psychologically and subsequently physically.

posted 02/20/10