Stitch Me Up, Doc
Today I had a bit of minor surgery--just five stitches to close up the place on my stomach where a mole used to be. I'd had the mole removed a week and a half ago and the biopsy came back somewhere between normal and cancerous, which is to say it was neither normal nor cancer, so I was instructed to return to the clinic today to have more skin removed to try to get rid of any abnormal cells that may have been left behind.
Having a history of skin cancer is fun, kids.
My doctor was only slightly condescending to me during the whole process, which is better than most doctors who've treated me. Most doctors tend to talk to me like it's my fault I'm so young and have had melanoma, and I swear they think I probably deserve it because people only get melanoma at 19 if they frequent tanning beds with the regularity of Paris Hilton and never use sunscreen, and they're totally rotten, horrible, irresponsible human beings. Except I never have and I always do and I'm only slightly rotten and horrible and irresponsible.
Anyway, so good riddance to abnormal skin cells. And now I have a few stitches in my belly, but it's not from laughing.
What this post is really about is my complete inability to make polite small talk, and why I shouldn't be allowed to speak to Dominic's coworkers unsupervised. Ever. Today, after my hospital appointment Dominic dropped me off by my truck on his way to work. I had parked at the base this morning to go to the gym, and then when Dominic called after I was finished I simply rode home with him in the Z so he could come straight back to work after taking me to the hospital. From the base I would drive myself home. Anyway, I stopped by the BX to get a lemonade on my way out and ran into one of Dominic's classmates, and in my absolute frenzy to come up with a socially appropriate source for small talk--you know, something to make the five minutes or so between the ordering of her food and the ordering of my lemonade to not feel like an endless wasteland of awkward silences--I shouted, "I'M ONLY HERE BECAUSE DOMINIC TOOK ME TO THE HOSPITAL."
"Oh," she said, "are you okay?"
"YEAH, I'M FINE. I JUST GOT A MOLE REMOVED IS ALL. FAIR SKIN, YOU KNOW." I shouted this all out at once, and when I got to the part about having fair skin, I gestured to my arm and rolled my eyes like I was saying, You must know where I'm coming from 'cause you're totally pale too.
Now I can think of several reasons why this conversation should have never happened. 1. It is never appropriate to talk to strangers or formal acquaintances about the condition of your moles, 2. it is certainly never appropriate to refer to the condition of your moles as being somehow diseased, 3. when you allude to someone else's fair skin like it's a problem you sound like a jackass, and 4. again, just don't talk about moles in public, yours or anyone else's. This is always a recipe for social disgrace.
And after all that, I didn't even get my lemonade because the BX was all out, so I just tucked what was left of my ravaged dignity--what with all the talk of my diseased moles--between my legs and left quietly.
The End.
Having a history of skin cancer is fun, kids.
My doctor was only slightly condescending to me during the whole process, which is better than most doctors who've treated me. Most doctors tend to talk to me like it's my fault I'm so young and have had melanoma, and I swear they think I probably deserve it because people only get melanoma at 19 if they frequent tanning beds with the regularity of Paris Hilton and never use sunscreen, and they're totally rotten, horrible, irresponsible human beings. Except I never have and I always do and I'm only slightly rotten and horrible and irresponsible.
Anyway, so good riddance to abnormal skin cells. And now I have a few stitches in my belly, but it's not from laughing.
What this post is really about is my complete inability to make polite small talk, and why I shouldn't be allowed to speak to Dominic's coworkers unsupervised. Ever. Today, after my hospital appointment Dominic dropped me off by my truck on his way to work. I had parked at the base this morning to go to the gym, and then when Dominic called after I was finished I simply rode home with him in the Z so he could come straight back to work after taking me to the hospital. From the base I would drive myself home. Anyway, I stopped by the BX to get a lemonade on my way out and ran into one of Dominic's classmates, and in my absolute frenzy to come up with a socially appropriate source for small talk--you know, something to make the five minutes or so between the ordering of her food and the ordering of my lemonade to not feel like an endless wasteland of awkward silences--I shouted, "I'M ONLY HERE BECAUSE DOMINIC TOOK ME TO THE HOSPITAL."
"Oh," she said, "are you okay?"
"YEAH, I'M FINE. I JUST GOT A MOLE REMOVED IS ALL. FAIR SKIN, YOU KNOW." I shouted this all out at once, and when I got to the part about having fair skin, I gestured to my arm and rolled my eyes like I was saying, You must know where I'm coming from 'cause you're totally pale too.
Now I can think of several reasons why this conversation should have never happened. 1. It is never appropriate to talk to strangers or formal acquaintances about the condition of your moles, 2. it is certainly never appropriate to refer to the condition of your moles as being somehow diseased, 3. when you allude to someone else's fair skin like it's a problem you sound like a jackass, and 4. again, just don't talk about moles in public, yours or anyone else's. This is always a recipe for social disgrace.
And after all that, I didn't even get my lemonade because the BX was all out, so I just tucked what was left of my ravaged dignity--what with all the talk of my diseased moles--between my legs and left quietly.
The End.
posted by Kate at 3:34 PM
2 Comments:
There is a "molar" to the story but fret not. And good riddance to the uncivilized cells!
Small talk is greatly overrated, in any case. You know this.
This story made me think of my own experience with small talk, and my own fair skin and moles (yes, I know where you are coming from!). I really laughed out loud. You certainly have a way with words.
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