Under the Knife

I was getting a chiropractic adjustment a few months ago when the good Dr. saw the flat, black mole on the bridge of my nose, right where my glasses rest. He commented that it looked suspicious and that was all the motivation I needed to go see my GP about it. It was in my vision when I was not wearing glasses, but other than that, it was only a bother when people would see it and say something about it. The GP did not hesitate in referring me to a specialist and two weeks later I was in the plastic surgeon's office, under a bright light and a magnifying glass. The young intern sidekick commented that he would 'lob' it off and be done with it, but I was not to worry, as in his opinion, it was quite harmless, and he even had a 25 syllable name for it which rhymes with blasphemous.
Today was the day and I was one of the first on the list for Dr. Brown (he is white). The shiny new hospital was encouraging as I do not like the thought of going into the operating room without an infection and then leaving with one. He lay me down on the table and then, after some banter and small talk, said that this was the part where I would not like him any more. He got that right. The needle came down from between my eyes and ran along the bone on the top of my nose, just under the skin, and injected red hot lava around my eyes and nose. I told him he could take a lesson from my dentist, but after having had kidney stone pain, I toughed it out. It was soon frozen and then the cutting/sawing motions and sounds began. It sounded much like cutting the gristle off the end of a chicken drumstick. I requested a face lift 'while he was at it', but he refused. He had only slotted 10 minutes for me. I think that was just an excuse.
He stitched it up, put a little tape on it, and sent me on my way. Other than having an eyelid that no longer blinked, I was fine. Until the freezing came out. I no longer wanted to wear my glasses at that point and even now, I can only wear them at the end of my nose like an absent minded professor.
Now I await the biopsy report and consider the possibility of perhaps living without a nose. Who knows?