Under the Knife

Yes. My first ever surgery. And my first ever experience with stitches.

I wouldn't have qualified the procedure as surgery before I was sent back to the room. But then I was instructed to lay down on the table, which, by the way was covered in that god-awful white paper (I thought surely I could sit up for this 'minimal' procedure). And then the doctor walked in with a full-facial clear plastic mask. And then they draped one of those blue cloths with a hole in it over my knee--exposing only the area to be cut. And then mid-procedure the doctor pulled out a clotting machine to stop the bleeding.

I consider that surgery.

But alas, all for a great cause. Finally, I am freak-free now that the "fetus" on my knee is gone and that terrible mole on my chest as well. No longer will little kids go cross-eyed after staring at the freakish thing on my knee for so long. No longer will I have to spend ten minutes trying to explain not only what a scar is, but why mine looks so outlandish to a three-year-old. And no longer will the elderly ask if that's a cookie on my chest.

With both areas numbed, I luckily didn't feel a thing other than a slight tugging as she stitched up my knee. That is the weirdest thing ever and almost sent me over the edge.

And now I am hobbling along, trying not to bend my left knee. Knees are really important and really useful. Who knew? Well now I do. Now that I have to calculate every move before I make it. Fortunately, I have a verbal doctor's note not to exercise. I can get into that.

Excuse the vulgar nature of this post. But as much of a milestone as this is in my life, I had to share. At least I didn't post pictures.