Thursday, February 25, 2010
I went to the dermatologist today for a little upkeep (that's a nice way of saying I went to talk about my zits). The nurse asked me some questions that I felt a little silly answering:
"So, what are you here for?"
"How long have you had them?"
"Ten years, twelve years, a long time . . ."
"So, what have you done to get rid of them?"
"Well, every generic version of ProActiv, every facewash, toothpaste . . ." I thought I should stop there.
"OK. Well, the doctor will be in shortly."
Of course, "shortly" in doctor's terms is an eternity to me. I looked around the room as I waited: cottonballs, Q-tips, soap, Febreeze . . . Wait a second. Why does a dermatologist need Febreeze? Where would the bad smells come from? As I thought about Febreeze, the door opened and in walked Dr. Jokester.
"Hello. How are you?" I asked.
"Mmmm. I guess I'm okay," he replied chuckling.
"So, what can I do for you?"
"Well, I've got large zits that hurt."
"Oh, yes!" he said as he peeked at my face. "Those are from hormones."
"Well, is there anything we can do about it?"
"Well, I don't know," he said. He chuckled as he saw my face fall. "Of course there is!" He gave me some samples of meds while I told him about my other concerns.
"I've had this thing on my nose for years. I don't know if it's a mole or if I should be concerned about it being cancerous. Can you see it?" I asked as I pointed to it.
"Can I see it?! Wow! I could see that thing from all the way across the room!" he exclaimed. This guy was a joke a minute. "Hop up on my chair and I'll check it out."
Before I could yell, "Back off!" he had an instrument in his hand and was frying a piece of my nose off. "How was that?" he asked.
I smelled burning flesh. I was in shock. Did this guy really just ambush me with a small flame thrower? My nose burned. "Well, it wasn't as bad as childbirth," I said. I looked in the mirror. "Is this moldy looking scab going to be on my nose for long?"
"Oh, no, just a few days. I think it was just an oil pocket."
All I had wanted to find out was whether I had skin cancer on my nose. I didn't mind how the "oil pocket" looked, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't dangerous.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
I thought about the 2 other moles on my face that I was going to talk to him about, but decided to keep quiet. I didn't want him to bring out his flame thrower again. "Uh, no. I'm good. Thanks?"
"I'll see you back in 6 weeks to see how your nose is healing up."
Yeah, right. If my "oil pocket" grows back, there is no way I am going back in there.
Moral of the story: If you ever see Febreeze in a doctor's office and wonder why it's there, please run. There will probably be some sort of burning flesh smell associated with your visit.