The dermatologist said “This liquid nitrogen has a kick to it, so be prepared.” He was treating two places on my face, to prevent skin cancer. The contraption he was holding looked like a small welding torch.
“I can take it,” I said, looking at that torch. “I’m ready.” I closed my eyes. It sounded like a torch, as well. A moment later, he was done with both spots. Well, that wasn’t so bad, I thought. Not much of a kick, if you ask me. His assistant gave me some literature on using sun block and I was free to go. Hey, I grew up in the west Texas desert long before sun block was invented or before there were warnings about sun burns or just too much sun. Ending up in a dermatologist’s office was only a matter of time. Using sun block now isn’t the real issue, is it?
A minute later, I was getting into my truck to go back to work and then it was “OW! OW! OW! OW!”
It felt like a habanero pepper had been stuffed into an open wound. My face felt like it was leaking, or maybe melting. I dabbed at it with a facial tissue, but nothing was there. If anything was leaking or melting, it was also evaporating.
When I got back to work the snack truck was still at my building, so I bought the last package of chocolate Hostess cupcakes and treated the pain internally (no prescription needed).
My coworker asked me if the doctor had used a deadening cream before the treatment. Deadening cream? No, he didn’t. Maybe it’s not covered by my insurance. No anesthesia for me! I’m tough! Argh, argh, argh! I mean OW! OW! OW!
One of the torched places is quite noticeable, high on my left cheekbone and somewhat large-ish in size. I’m trying to think up a story to blame it on the dogs. Still working on that.
OW! OW! OW! Nurse! Bring more chocolate, quickly!