Death of a NosePosted: June 3, 2013 | |
Bill and I had just returned from a whirlwind morning of errand running, which included a grocery store stop, picking up prescriptions at two different pharmacies, plus a visit to a dermatologist to take a look at a small patch on my nose. It looked exactly the same as another non-malignant cancer I’d had on different spot on my nose several years ago. As we walked into the house with our grocery bags, Mom asked, “How’d the autopsy go?”
“Autopsy?” I asked.
“On your nose,” she replied. “You said you had to go to the doctor and you’d probably get an autopsy.”
“Mom, autopsies are performed on dead people. I’m having a biopsy done.”
“Six of one, seven of another,” she proclaimed. “So… how’d it go?”
“I don’t know. He stuck a needle in my nose a few times to numb it, which, by the way, hurt a lot, took a slice off and it’ll take a week to 10 days to get the results back.”
“And if it’s cancer?” she asked.
“Then they’ll remove it,” I answered.
“Your nose?” she exclaimed, sounding moderately concerned.
“I suppose if I’d let it go long enough, yes. That’s why I got it checked now, while it’s tiny, so they don’t have to cut off my nose.”
“Well that’s good, then. Not having a nose would probably be bad.”
“I imagine so,” I sighed. “And it probably wouldn’t be too great to look at.”
“Plus you wouldn’t be able to smell anything, like if there was a fire or a gas leak,” she added.
“Mom, our house is all electric.”
“You never know. It could be someone else’s gas,” she replied.