Wednesday, January 12, 2011

you'll never eat a chicken tender again.

this friday i have out patient surgery to remove a lipoma* (i'll save you the time: it's a fatty mass). my fatty mass is in my left collarbone and is pronounced enough that i feel like Quasimodo when i wear a tank top. or like i'm constantly shrugging my shoulder, take your pick.

so today i spent some quality time getting poked and prodded for pre-op, during the course of which, i was handed a detailed pamphlet outlining the anesthesia.

to be clear, i'm not scared of the surgery. i'm actually looking forward to it so i can see what this tumor thing looks like. after smushing my thumb into it over the past year or so, i imagine it's about the size of a chicken tender {told you so}. i even asked my doctor if i could not only see it, but keep it after they scoop the thing out of my clavicle. i thought the doctor would be slightly confused (if not downright concerned) with my request, but due to 19 spin-offs of CSI airing at any time you power up on Hulu, i'm clearly not the first person to ask.

i come by my curiosity honestly. the last time i had something growing inside of my body and getting bigger by the day, i got to take it home. and now i have a college fund started for it (ahem, 'him'). also, when my dad had a stint put in one of his artery or valve thingies in his heart several years ago, the doctor gave him the plaque they scraped out to take home. i think he still has it in a little glass bottle that looks like a sand timer. only filled with plaque, not granules.

so my concern is not the surgery or what they're pulling out, but the anesthesia. by all accounts, i am terrified that i will say something so profoundly stupid or personal or start singing 'the wheels on the bus' when i'm coming out of the fog that i will end up on youtube. add to this that i am to wear no makeup or contact lenses or jewelry to this scenario and my panic really starts to kick in.

for a person who never is at a loss for words, the ones i choose take time to get out there. i am mortified that i'll turn into this chick. (stick around for the 1:04 minute mark, you won't regret it...)

so wish me luck, and stay tuned for how things turn out. with pictures, no video. because that's how i do.

*it's worth noting that the doctor doesn't think that this gelatinous mass is anything to be concerned about, and since i never had a shot at a modeling career, the scar will go largely undetected and probably ignored at that.

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