Friday, January 23, 2015

A Foray into Plastic Surgery

I have been to see my nurse practitioner who has called a dermatologist who has called a plastic surgeon. Yes, Laura has to have plastic surgery. Not because I want to, but because my lip is slowly being taken over by a mole that the doctor already got rid of once because it was weird.* It didn't get the hint and, like a creepy guy in the library, has returned to plague me even after I made it clear it wasn't wanted.

The look of it doesn't really bother me. I mean, it did when I was in high school, but I am over it.


See? Not terrible to look at. A uni-brow would be way worse. (On a completely different topic, those sunglasses are made of awesome.) My doctor, however, is NOT over it. It has been doomed by medical science, so it must go. Luckily, it is the only weird mole I have to get rid of. Hopefully it is the only one FOREVER.

Apparently, the reason a plastic surgeon has to do this is the line that makes your lip your lip and not the skin above or below. Once that line is screwed up, there is no fixing it and you grimace everywhere you go. Or make some other face. I just made up grimace because I thought that would be the look you'd give people of someone messed up your lip permanently. 

The bonus is, though, that a plastic surgeon will be able to do this thing without a scar. I have enough scars. Scars everywhere. So, that is the consolation prize for having to trek all the way to almost-Ohio for someone to poke my lip with needles and do goodness-knows what else to my face while I am undoubtedly awake and probably watching it all go down. Maybe they will let me listen to an audiobook instead of to the sound of the surgery like the oral surgeon did when I got my wisdom teeth out, because that was awesome. Although I now equate The Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" with anesthesia. 

I wonder if the doctor will draw on my face with a pen like they did to that one lady on the Today Show's special about plastic surgery...If they do, I will take a picture. Those sorts of things need to be immortalized on the internets. New profile picture of Laura Marker Face, as she makes her way in the world.

I shall find all of this out next Tuesday, when I have my consultation.

* The last time I had this thing taken care of, they used a laser and I smelled like burning flesh for two straight days, and it scared people at the bookstore Mum took me to afterward when neither of us could smell the war-zone smell and thought it would be fun to get a book to read at home later that day. I apologize, bookstore people from 18 years ago, and I will plan in advance to bring some kind of potpourri or something to carry around with me after whatever the plastic surgeon decides to do.

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