It's never nice to hear the word cancer. But that was the word of the day this week when Dr. Lipscomb cut into my back and excised a basal cell carcinoma from the skin covering my spine.
He'd been keeping an eye on the little blue spot with the three white flecks in it for a couple of months. He didn't like the look of it and so he decided to carve it out and send it off from analysis.
I'd tried to tell him it was actually an implant from an alien. I made this judgement because the spot was so perfectly positioned in the center of my back. I said it was a GPS transmitter so they could keep track of me. He was slightly amused.
The surgery took place in his operating room. The shots for the anaesthetic were more painful than the actual cutting.
He placed six platinum staples on my back to hold the cut together.
Maybe we can sell the platinum for scrap metal when this is all done!
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