My Convertible Life

Friday, January 3, 2014

On Visiting the Plastic Surgeon

I lost another part of me today.

This time it was part of my back -- a dysplastic nevus that rated “severe” on the spectrum of atypical moles trying to turn into skin cancer. My dermatologist biopsied the spot a couple months ago and gave me the option of going to a plastic surgeon to ensure that it was entirely removed.

Being in a plastic surgeon’s office was a weird experience. The continuous video promoting various creams and injections didn't make me feel any better about my own 41-year-old face, which was free of its usual make-up. I found myself looking at other people in the waiting room and wondering why they were there -- breast implants, liposuction, face lift, dyspastic nevus? And then wondering what they assumed I was there for -- which, let’s face it, would be a boob job if they were paying any attention.

I took myself to the appointment after convincing my husband I could handle it on my own. The nurse had assured me it was a simple, quick procedure and I’d be fine to drive and carry on with my day. Just an inch-long incision in the upper left quadrant of my back, no big deal.

Except that once I was lying on my stomach on the operating table feeling the bizarre tugging sensation of stitches on numb skin, I started having flashbacks. Having had two c-sections, I’m all too familiar with that feeling that my skin has turned to thick, tough leather that’s being stretched, shoved and pulled in new directions. At least this time there wouldn’t be a newborn to take care of afterward.

The whole procedure took less than 30 minutes, including check-in and check-out paperwork. It wasn’t until after the surgery was completed and I was trying to pencil in the post-op appointment on my calendar that I realized my hands were shaking.

Guess this means I don’t have the stamina for that boob job after all.


  1. Yikes girl! Good on you for keeping up with these check ups, but I'm sorry they keep turning up stuff to deal with! And, while you totally can (and did) go it alone, remember that there's no need to...okay? Mwah!

  2. As someone who's had the boob job, trust me when I tell you that it's nothing like childbirth. Primarily because you're not even remotely conscious when it happens. (Although I suppose the bags of frozen peas on my compression bra could be sort of parallel'ed to the mesh underpants & frozen maxi pads.) But as you said: no newborns to take care of afterward. :-)

    Glad you got it taken care of. Sounds like a pretty scary experience.

    1. I guess being unconscious would be better, but that just creates another whole category of things for me to worry about. Glad you made it through!

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  4. “Being in a plastic surgeon’s office was a weird experience.” – I agree. You will really feel more nervous the longer you’re in the lobby waiting for your turn. Observing the people around you is a good to kill time. Somehow you forgot how nervous you were.

    Candance @ CosMed


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