If you may remember, I had the fear of God put in me that I had a mutant carcinoma about to eat my face starting on my lower eyelid by the esteemed Dr Thompson, esquire. His belief that the growth on my eyelid was a Basal Cell Carcinoma was refuted by my GP, who maintained that it was a benign growth, a Meibomian cyst in fact.
So I was referred to an Eye and Skin Specialist for a deciding vote, essentially. This is, in of itself, not necessarily a bad thing. However to see the specialist took 4 and a half months to get into see him. In the mean time, my face could have been consumed by the face eating cancer located in my eyelid. No one seemed to care about this, nor the fact I pay for private insurance so I don’t have to wait for assessments. Too bad, So sad. Get in Line.
So I went off and had the holiday from hell, all the while expecting to return to Australia to have my face removed. It was just that good a holiday.
So eventually I have my eyelid examined and the Dr, who looks as though he has escaped from primary school and is playing dress up, decides that a biopsy is required as visual diagnosis is inconclusive. And so I lie back to have my eyelid sliced open and he warns me that the worst part will be when he puts the local into my eye. He lied in this but not by much.
He does indeed put the local into my eyelid and it is INCREDIBLY painful. I had planned to try to keep my eye open at this point so as not have the needle pierce my eyeball but the pain is so intense my instinct is to squeeze my eyes tight. He does this twice, both times like sticking hot needles into your eyes.
He assures me that the next bit wont hurt and proceeds to snip off the growth on my eyelids with scissors. And I could feel all of it. Each and every snip. And I am squirming and he’s saying “can you feel this?” and I’m trying not to scream and swear and admit I can through gritted teeth. He goes in for another round of snipping and this time the local has been given time to work and I don’t feel it as much. By this time though, I feel as though someone has repeatedly clobbered me with a baseball bat.
Then the bleeding doesn’t stop from my eyelid (which makes my hypochondriacal brain assume I have haemophilia) and the primary student uses a hyfrecator on me to stop the blood flow. This is a delightful device I have been assured is being used in the Bring Popcorn Week event however I must confess I was appalled. I had to hold a rod to stop myself from being electrocuted while primary lad prodded my eyelid and filled the room with the smell of my burnt flesh.
Anyway this is me an hour after the procedure.
It got worse and I started to look like the Phantom of the Opera before I got better. There is a slight indentation where the bump was not completely removed and I have been told I can return and have that shaved off, however given my experience I may pass and learn to live with it.
So I waited for the biopsy results in that awkward twilight state of wondering if you do have cancer or not. Who would be right, Master it’s a cancer Thompson or Master it’s a cyst GP.
Neither as it turns out.
It was a nevus mole. Common as muck. Dr Thompson is getting SUCH a whack for scaring the bejesus out of me.