One Mole Less

So, today I went to the dermatologist's office for the first time to get a skin check. I have alot of moles and I'm sick of reading magazine articles about skin cancer and then I pour over all my moles and make myself sick with worry. So, I decided to nip it in the bud and stop that worry in it's tracks. Plus, I was really hoping he would need to take the mole on my face off that keeps growing outward and makes me look old. Uh, he didn't.

Anyway, this experience was not a whole lot better than my ob/gyn visit the other day. But I had no clue I should have "prepared" if ya know what I mean. It had crossed my mind that they would need to look at my legs so I wore really loose soccer-style shorts for that. So, I get in there and have to go down all the way to the skivvi*s. No br* or anything which wouldn't have been quite so bad if I had a gown. But no, all I had was paper. Paper, people! One sheet of paper for my lap and some insane-a-man-must-have-invented top sheet with a slit up the back and two armholes. It was ridiculous! Have you ever made a child's costume out of a brown paper bag? That's what this top was like. It was square, had no hope of staying closed in the back or even up on my shoulders, and I was one tear away from disaster. I was terrified to move. One wrong move, one little rip would result in total exposure. Is this even legal? I'm so tired of cost-cutting on very important things like this. Sitting on a table with two sheets of paper covering all God gave me was not okay with me! I guess I should invest in my own hospital gown and start carrying it with me just in case the dr.'s office is so greedy that they can't spend a dollar of the money I pay them to wash a gown.
Anyway, as I'm sitting there I start thinking about how now the doc will definitely see the hula girl underw*ar I have on. Hula girls that have seen better days 'cause the elastic is all stretched out and broken 'cause I still seem to think I can fit into the same size u.w. that I wore before I had BFG. Uh, I don't. And the best part is I had a perfectly respectable, conservative striped pair picked out for the visit. But, no kidding, when I put them out this morning they ripped! And I'm a little behind on the laundry, so the hula girls got an outing and showing today.
Fortunately (I think. Well, maybe not.), the female physician's assistant did all the checking. The doc just looked at my arm. So, she got an eyeful. It may have been more embarrassing 'cause she was like this really young, blonde, beautiful girl who was probably praying that she won't look like me when she is thirty.
So, they decide to cut this one mole off my arm that was no danger yet, but would have to come off sometime. They said they could do it today. I asked if I could get dressed before they did it. They said yes, so I agreed to have it done. I just could NOT have done it in the paper. But, I tell ya', I was just not prepared. I got all nervous and silly-acting, and blabbing. The whole thing was just making me sick and light-headed. I didn't look, but I just couldn't stand the thoughts that they were cutting this thing off of me. Ugghhhh!!! The nurse had to tell me to breathe deep and all that. She thought I was nuts.
I made it through, but when it was done, I did not know who I was or where I was at. And, no, I hadn't had anything other than a shot of Novocaine right where the mole was. The experience just rattled me that much. Y'all, I couldn't get out of the place. The nurse said go left. I went right. The check out desk had a big arrow pointing toward the exit door which also had a big red lighted exit sign above it and I went the opposite way. They had to stop me and tell me where to go. I was a mess. I hope I never have to go back. I am so embarrassed. But at least I got a laugh. I was rolling laughing in the elevator which they probably have tape of and are probably telling my insurance company right now that I have a mental disorder.
And I haven't even gotten to my story about the podiatrist visit on Monday. And believe it or not this is all part of my "happy quest" that I haven't gotten to tell y'all about yet because I'm so busy having adventures with these doctors.
Rattled, but making it,
Mama Said