And for this Halloween, I might as well be Frankenstein, because the lumpy stitch job on my 'Plastic Surgery' scar is no eye candy, let me tell you. So heres the story, although most people would of known this, or seen it on my hand, and been grossed out by but not mentioned it out of politeness. Ive had a bump on the back of my left hand since before I can remember. It was excellent as a kid because I had an easy time distinguishing from left and right: The left had the bump. The right, had no bump. If only I had some other cheat for learning how to tie my shoe laces, and remember my phone number and address when I was 4-5, Id probably had been moved into the more advanced class of Kindergarten, instead of the ESL class because I was too shy to talk. Also, as a kid, it was what distinguished me, along with the aggressive eczema on my fingers. It was a conversation piece, classmates and teachers and relatives talked about it, so in a way it made me feel kinda special. As a kid anyways, despite the fact that it made me look slightly mutated.
Although Ive never known exactly what it was, there has been more than a few opinions. Dr. MacDonald, my GP growing up, said it was an infantile hemangioma, a tumorous collection of blood vessels, kind of like a birthmark, and that it was harmless and would eventually go away. The specialist my mom took me to when I was 9 or so said pretty much the same thing; they could of removed it, but its benign and would most likely disappear as I grew older. My Aunt had opined it was a Ganglion Cyst, a growth full of fluid normally found near joints. Adam thought that was the case too. No matter what it was, it was always there, and in a way, even though i jest, it did feel like a conjoined twin, like its brain or heart that was stuck on my hand, and had been growing with me as I grew. It never went away though, as some people predicted. It grew smaller during high school and university, but became big again in the last 5-7 years. So when I finally decided to remove it, there was a shade of remorse. Just a shade, but remorse nonetheless.
The funny thing is, I fully expected that the process would be like Nip/Tuck, the TV Show: elaborate, colorful and high end. This experience, however, kinda felt like going to the dentist instead. The Plastic Surgeon, Mr. Lawlor, did the surgery in his quaint clinic, and didn't even dawn O.R. scrubs or full surgery apron. Instead he kept his shirt and tie on, rolled up his sleeves, and put on a plastic apron, as if he was about to eat Ribs or Lobster at a restaurant. Like really? Just a plastic apron that are like the same stuff garbage bags are made of? It became serious though when he grabbed my hand, lied me down and drew with a sharpie, a dotted outline on my skin of what he was going to cut; kinda like on tv, when the plastic surgeon draws on the fat folds of the breast as a visual outline before doing the boob job. Then of course, he proceeded to repeated jab a needle of local anesthetic into my conjoined twin. 5 or 6 times, all the way around! Like really really Deep! I couldnt look, but of course I did, and it hurt every single time, except maybe by the 6th, when I was mostly numb by then. Now this is where I had to decide, should I watch him work away on my hand during Surgery? Or just look away the whole entire time? I wasnt too sure if I could handle watching surgery on myself. Now watching surgery on someone else was never a problem, but surgery on me? I didnt want to end up puking on Mr. Lawlors plastic bib too.
I seemed to be fine though, if I just took quick glances in moderation and looked away quickly afterwards. When I did glance, it looked like it was a shot gun wound, with blood everywhere, and he had to constantly use a bipolar to cauterize, which looked funny and smelled funny, because smoke would billow up then from the burning of my innards. (I hope Im not making you sick by describing this. If I am, dont even bother look at the pictures below then.. lol) There was alot of scalpel work going on too, although I could not feel any pain, I could feel the cutting, as if someone where cutting into a fish, and trying to seperate the bones, that kind of way.
Then he finally showed me, after 20 minutes of delicately cutting it out. It was the size of a nut, and looked like the heart of a mouse ( not that Ive ever seen a mouse heart, but if I ever did, I figured itd look exactly like what came out of my hand). So there it was, my conjoined twin, finally removed. And it was after all a Hemangioma of some sort, so Adam and his first year med. school diagnosis was a little off. If it was a cyst, it would be a sac of fluid and puss. So glad its not that.
I dont know what to feel now though. Maybe my life will change for the better, maybe Ill have good luck now, maybe I will be a different person, maybe I wont recognize my hand anymore and itll never be the same. A part of me is gone, a part of me that has been there since birth, so my relationship with it has even been longer than anyone I know, including my brothers and sisters, and really only matched by my parents. Or maybe Im looking too much into it, and after all it was just a benign growth that made my hand look gross, so..... good riddance, right? That would sound good, except it still looks gross now, with the stitches. I really hope the surgeon knows what he was doing and that he didnt lie when he said there would barely be any scarring. Cuz right now, it kinda looks worse than it ever did with a bump, it looks, well, Frankenstein.
And since i have a new expensive Camera, I have to use it. Before and Current Pictures below.
BEFORE AVEC LA BUMP
AND AFTER
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