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Monday, August 25, 2014

Ode to Sarah; or The Desiccator Demands Your Attention

Because this year, apparently, is the year I will earn the nickname “Lumpy”, I’ve had yet another one removed.

The first?  Ganglion.

The second?  Lipoma.

The third?  An odd mole.

The fourth?  Sebaceous.

It just keeps getting prettier, don’t it?

I am in the doctor’s office, awaiting the removal of Lump Three.   And the device attached to the wall?

The McKesson 22-900 Desiccator.

The Desiccator!

Ring-ring!  Ring-ring!

"Hello! This is Sarah."

“Sarah,” I whisper.  “Working on removal of my third weirdness in under a year, and I just have to tell someone:  I’m in the presence of the Desiccator!”

I hear the click-click-click of her turn signal.

“Oh, hey,” I apologize, “You in traffic?  I can call you back.”

“Pfft,” she says.  “Hands-free, baby.  What’s this about a desiccator now?”

“It’s mole-removal time.”

“The one on your back?”

I shift my phone from my right ear to my left.  “What, does everyone know?”

“Just me and your doctor,” says the woman in the medical industry.

“Never mind that,” I say.  “Can you believe there’s something called the desiccator in here?   It’s like I’m about to be invaded by Mongols or something.”

“What?” she shouts.  “No brake lights?  Moron!”  Her tone changes.  “Sorry.  And yes.  The Desiccator: it dries and slices.”

I rifle through the doctor’s pile of ancient Good Housekeeping magazines.  “What am I,” I say, “Beef jerky?”

Sarah laughs.  “Close!  Do you know I was in on the testing of that particular machine?”  There is the sound of a car honking.  “Hey – you know how we tested it?” 

“I have no idea.”

“Steak!”  She sounds triumphant.  “Pounds and pounds of high-grade beef!  Close to human flesh, you know.  Tested it for how many cuts it can make before it –“

“OK, OK,” I laugh.  “I’m about to sliced.”

“Yes, you are,” she says.  “But it will be sharp and clean and pretty much painless.  What are you doing afterward?”

I shrug, secure that she knows that I am shrugging.  “Waiting for the Lidocaine to wear off?”

“Only while eating sushi!” she declares.  “Pick you up?  Our usual downtown spot?”

I smile, secure that she knows that I am smiling.  “Give me 30 minutes,” I say.

“See you then,” she says.

“Hey!” I yell.

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” I say.

She laughs.  “I love you, too.”


Click.

22 comments:

jenny_o said...

I wonder if you could make sushi with The Dessicator? Sounds like something to be advertised on late-night TV for $19.95.

Hope your surgery went well and that there are no more lumps in your future. And yay for good friends in our time of need!

Shelly said...

What is it that after a certain age we start to grow excess stuff? I don't recall that being part of Aging 101. Glad yours is dessicated.

Leenie said...

Dessicator! Another Masters of the Universe character like Skeletor and Stinkor. He drains his subjects of emotional and intellectual vitality. It's an evil plot! Run!

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
oh yes, the pendicular impediments and bulges below... I rather like the idea of dessication. Not so keen on slice. YAM xx

Connie said...

The Desiccator--that sounds rather ominous. Glad to hear it was followed up with lunch with a friend. :)

Chicken said...

Hopefully now you'll be lumpless for a good long while. If it's not too much trouble, could you try adding me to your blog roll again? I believe I've fixed the issue. I hope.

Simply Suthern said...

Good to see you have been delumped.

Pearl said...

Chicken!!! I can't reach you. It says you've not shared your whatever publicly.

We know you're public, dagnabit!

Can anyone else reach Chicken????

Jono said...

We all need more friends like Sarah. Distraction is better than desiccation.

Geo. said...

Relieved to read McKesson 22-900 Desiccator was attached to the wall. Have you any idea what happens when one gets loose?

Pearl said...

And thank you, everyone, for the concern and laughs. :-) The stitches itch like mad -- and no yoga for at least two weeks! -- but I'm glad to put Lump #4 behind me.

Joanne Noragon said...

So, if you go for the whole body shave, can you wear an itsy bitsy, teeny, weeny yellow polka dot in public, again. On a sunny day in Minneapolis in July, that is.

Pearl said...

So to speak.

Anonymous said...

Does it come with its own heat sealed baggies?

Elephant's Child said...

I hope and trust that this is your last lumpectomy. And that the sushi was good.

Anonymous said...

That sounds kind of fierce and scary. Good luck with this one.

Unknown said...

I hope you have good health insurance; the dessicator sounds expensive! Glad it's nothing more serious. Enjoy the sushi.

Gigi said...

Ganglion knots - I have 'em but no one has suggested that they be removed - so I never knew that was even a possibility. The things I learn from your posts.

Should Fish More said...

Wow, a Disiccator...and that model, high tech. Before I retired I just used a pliars, garden shears and occasionally fishooks. My patients never complained, but that might have been the gags...dunno.

Lin said...

It's fun to get old, isn't it? Where does all this weird stuff come from? And why?

Watson said...

Hope the disiccator did it's job well, didn't leave a scar, and left you in good shape for a lovely lunch with a good friend.

Linda O'Connell said...

It's always good to have a friend in the know! And you sure do know them.