Waiting for the words


The mole got larger quickly. It got ugly and it hurt. I waited a day thinking I  had just bumped it, but the next day it hurt more and I called the doctor. The next day, I was in the office waiting for him to take a look. 

I have had too many friends whose lives have been interrupted or destroyed by one of these things going wrong. I waited for a response. I watched the creases around his eyes. He did not break a sweat, but said we should take it out and send it to a pathologist.   

He numbed it and the excised it. He plopped it into a vial. It looked weird. Stitches closed up the hole, a bandage protected the stitches, but I was in charge of the area. We made an appointment for the next week.  

Five days later, I was getting out of a friend’s truck and I banged it hard. It started to bleed. It was unpleasant. I was ready for it to be healed. Seven days after the removal I was back at the doctor’s waiting for the words-waiting for the diagnosis. 

He came in with the report. It was a “ulcerated pyogenic granuloma.” I stared and then blinked. My mind was no help. Is that good or bad? He added that it was “completely excised.” Is that what an exorcist does? He looked up and said. It’s good. We got it all. There is nothing else we need to do. 

He clipped the stitches, frowned at me, I had done some damage to his beautiful work. Three steri stops later I was out of the door and headed back to work. 

Later that night I googled it. It was good to read several articles affirming that it was not a problem, that it was not a bad cancer.  It’s anazing how a few words can be liberating and healing.