I went back to the doctor to find out the game plan for my treacherous wart.
Tangent: I also went for my appointment on Tuesday, July 11, which was the wrong day. I glanced too quickly at the card and read only the 7/11. Because reading comprehension is the hard and the difficult.
She came in and said one of the sweetest words in the language: Benign. The-wart-that-wasn't-a-wart is also not a cancer.
Apparently when she told me last time that the thing was a low-grade cancer, she was telling me a worst case scenario.
Which is kind of effed up. It's not like I tell my students when they hand in papers that their work will probably be Fs so that they'll be prepared for the worst and surprised by the better.
Bedside manner aside, she froze the little bugger, and I imagine I'll be able to say farewell to it in a couple days or weeks (I honestly don't know how long it will take and didn't want to ask her. She might tell me a year to lower my expectations).
I celebrated by buying three pairs of flip-flops at Wal-Mart. I now have six pairs of flip-flops. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but it is a huge embarrassment of shoe riches to me. I tell you, come September, I'm going to be very sad to pack them up.
ETA: The doctor asked me if I ever had liquid nitrogen before. I told her not in a formal setting like this. SHE WAS NOT AMUSED. Another thing that cracked me up: she asked me if I was going to be in the sun this week. I immediately went into over-thinking mode. I don't go out in the sun to stay, but the sun manages to find me when I go outside. How does a person phrase that? So I told her that I'd get incidental sun, but not purposefully. She loved that shit. In the exchange that followed, she used the phrase "incidental sun" three times. I love it when someone picks up your words.