(I give you full permission to read the entirety of this post with a little undertone of whine, because that was the way it was written.)
I decided about a month ago to have a strange mole on my leg checked out by a dermatologist. Because it has been over three years since I was at this practice (though I have had skin checks elsewhere in that time) I was deemed a new patient and had to wait a month to get in.
So I waited a month and tried to not dwell on the fact that I could be walking around with a potentially deadly mole on my leg.
Imagine my delight when said mole was deemed “normal.” Possibly even a past trauma of some kind, which is more than likely.
While I was there I asked for a full body check and a look at the planter wart on my foot.
Imagine my surprise when they found a mole on my back that, indeed, was suspicious. Biopsy, thanks. (And I had made some stupid reference to Izzy on Grey’s Anatomy with the melanoma on her back… right before they found a stupid mole on my back.)
(Background – for new friends – my husband had stage 3 melanoma about 8 years ago. It’s pretty amazing that he is walking around and has a clean bill of health.)
Oh, and we’ll freeze that pesky wart.
Holy crap. Ouch and double ouch. Not to be a drama queen (or maybe to be a drama queen), that shit hurts. My pesky wart has gone from something that has kept me from getting a pedicure and bothers me every 100th day to burning, searing pain when I’m not walking and worse when I am. Crap.
And the back thing. Lidocaine didn’t feel great going in, but did the trick. (on a side note – until now I thought it was Litocaine.) Many hours later, I thought I was handling it like a pro. Then the lidocaine totally wore off and I started hurting. It’s a weird enough spot that laying down is uncomfortable. Sitting is uncomfortable. I get to wait a week for results. Crap.
We had a new water heater installed to replace the 18-year-old one that has served about 10 years longer than expected. Except there was a hookup issue. This was supposed to ease my mind, not add to it with the words “issue” and “gas-line” in the same sentence.
So there was an extra charge, of course. And last night, my husband noticed a slight stream of water leaking from said brand new water heater. So a call was made, there was a possibility of another charge, of course. Another service call later, a small adjustment has been made and the problem is fixed.
And I am supposed to sleep better because some contract installation guy tells me it’s all good. Don’t worry about the sticker with the combustion warning right next to the pipe. Don’t worry about the fact that it’s gas and gas scares the crap out of me.
La la la. Life is great. I have no worries. I actually went to bed when the kids went to bed because sleep is my anti-anxiety answer, only to be awoken an hour later by Maggie with a very strange bathroom incident that I still don’t quite understand.
I swear I am not looking for trouble. I just seem to keep finding it.