Post Surgery Update

Hi! I’m back!

I survived the cancer surgery!

If you’re wondering how long I’m going to milk this, the answer is a long time, baby. A long, long time.

And now I’m going to update you on my surgery in chronological bullet format.

All times are approximate.

7 am: I wake up! Yay that I didn’t die in my sleep!

7:15 (still am!) I alert Husbandrinka that my skin cancer is acting up and he should get the kids breakfast. He says something in Italian that involves The Madonna.

7:45: I say good bye to the kids. They don’t leave for school for another 20 minutes, but I don’t want to miss the segment on Good Morning America about pageant dads.

8:15: I ask Husbandrinka how nervous he is about my surgery. He replies “not very, but how huge will the bandage be?” Because when you marry a trophy wife, you care about things like that.

9:15 I arrive at dermatologist’s office. I am asked to fill out form.

9:20 Fill out form, feeling confident about my name, address, date of birth and allergies. Pause at “how many alcoholic drinks do you have a day?” Write in “2” because unsure of how many zeroes there are in “a million”. After all, I’m here for cancer surgery and not the Math Olympics.

9:23 Pause also at “list your hobbies” section of the form. For inexplicable reasons put down “reading and jogging”. Cross out “jogging” and write in “TV”. Wonder for the rest of the appointment why this information is important and whether I can write in “jogging” again. Do not for a second consider writing “blogging”.

9:45 Meet doctor. Doctor explains procedure. Doctor will take the cancer off, send it to the lab, while I wait and then if it’s all clear, I get stitched up. If there’s more cancer, he’ll take more off. Make some jokes about this being a good opportunity to reduce nose size. Doctor laughs as though he’d never heard this joke before and has been freebasing laughing gas.

10 am. Procedure starts. I feel nothing. I mean, pain-wise. Emotionally, I am still alive.

10:15 I get sent into the waiting room. I wait. Wendi texts to see how it’s going. I try to be brave and make light of the obviously very grave situation and say that the doctor is younger than I am.

10:16 Wendi texts back “who isn’t?”

10:16:05 Wendi is placed on friendship death row, which is a lot more serious than friendship probation. A lot.

10:46 The doctor tells me that there is still more cancer (probably caused by Wendi’s cruelty) that needs to be taken off. I go back for further surgery.

11:02 I’m back in the waiting room. Papa calls. I tell him that the doctor had more cancer to remove and Papa says, “let him do his job, he knows what he’s doing.”

11:03 Wonder whether Papa thinks that I’m arguing with the doctor over the surgery. Place Papa on parental death row, a few cells away from Wendi.

11:35 All the cancer is out! The doctor prepares to stitch me up. I prepare to faint.

11:36 I reconsider fainting when I realize that I can’t actually feel anything.

12:00 As he’s sewing me up, the doctor tells me that I have a lot of sun damage. I’ve been out of the dating market for a while now, but I assume that this is how dermatologists flirt.

12:15 I ask the nurse how many stitches. She tells me she’ll count once it’s over.

12:16 Since I assumed that the answer would be “1” or “2”, I consider fainting at the thought that she’d have to count the number of stitches. On the other hand, maybe she’s not a mathematical Olympian, either.

12:35 Nurse says that I have 14 stitches. Nurse bandages my nose.

12:36 Nurse explains after-care instructions. No alcohol for 2 days.

1:00 On the subway. People openly stare at the huge bandages on my nose.

1:02 I pretend that I just had a very exclusive nose job. For a deviated septum.

1:03 I become alarmed that I was mixed up septum and cervix again, but no, septum.

The rest of the afternoon: I am in recovery. Heroically. Wend is still on friendship death row. Tragically.

Thank you, everyone, for your good wishes and lovely/funny comments. I know that my surgery was relatively minor, but it was still scary for me. And for everyone who has to look at me. (And a special thank you to Ilana, who, via, Twitter, recommended her dermatologist.)

One year ago ...

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