What's eating me?

I just thought I ought to share with you the source of my current self-obsessive troubles.

Yes, it’s sexy, I know. This is what my poor mole looked like the day it was removed. Or rather, the mole looked like the world’s tiniest, roundest slug, curled up on a table surrounded by bloody pieces of cloth. Super-schmexy. I got the stitches out by now, which was a scary but wonderful moment. Finally, the annoying tugging and poking of the stitches was gone. Of course, later that same evening, I managed to rip it open by mistake and I was back to square 1.

So now I’m waiting for it to heal again. The normal, old-fashioned “I have a hole in my chest”-kind of way. It’s a little more exciting than watching paint peel because it’s interactive. I mean, ok, you can help the paint peel, but with a wound, you can disinfect it, put anti-bacterial lotion on it, bandaids or bandage, and finally some skin lotion that would usually be used on dry skin! Yeah! So much fun! You also get to follow the progress. Right now, the scab is trying its best to annoy me by jumping off and causing me to go back to step 2.

It’s very annoying. It’s nowhere near painful, but the constant presence is so hard to ignore. I also notice that I can’t stretch like I could un-sliced. (Speaking of slicing, it was done with local anesthesia and a scalpel. No fancy freezing or acid or whatever for me!) My illusion of being able to move freely was what ripped the bastard open again in the first place. Grrr…

So if I seem a little more disgusted with myself than usual, it’s probably from the exciting new hobby - scab-watching. Woooh! At least there’s no mysterious white-blood-cell-related ooze around it anymore..