Recently, I was very selfish.
I work too hard. Pretty much anyone who knows me will tell you that. And in recent years, with kids all flown, between the day job and my writing, I burn the midnight oil more than I’d like to admit. I know I need to fix my handed-down trait of “you only need to see the doctor if you’re sick.”
I actually went to see my doctor late last summer, and as expected, after an extended absence, she sent me away with a raft of paperwork for all the usual things a woman “of a certain age” needs to take care of, and the referrals are coming through now (thank you OHIP!). She also referred me to a dermatologist for a couple of spots I was concerned about. I saw him in the fall and he declared them harmless, but asked me about the bump on my nose – the one I’ve had for years and years. “I’m 95 percent sure it’s nothing,” he advised, but suggested a biopsy to be 100% sure. The biopsy came back inconclusive, and I managed to convince myself it really was nothing while another referral was made to a Mohs surgeon who would be able to excise it layer by layer. The first layer, I was sure, would be enough to tell us it was just a cosmetic issue.
So imagine my surprise when after having my nose frozen to within an inch of its life, the “nothing” turned out to be a basal cell carcinoma. While I digested this news, the doctor refroze my nose, scraped off a second layer and went back to her lab to see if, with this slice, she’d gotten it all. Fortunately, she had and I soon left the office slightly shell-shocked with 20 stitches holding my poor nose together, a huge bandage, a warning about black eyes and the potential need for “scar revision” in a few months.
The freezing wore off and I spent the rest of the day on the couch with my swollen sore nose, feeling a bit sorry for myself. By bedtime, I noticed my throat was sore. An odd side effect, I thought, but hey, ears, nose and throat are connected, so there was some logic,
I woke up the next morning in the throws of a nasty cold, and yes, the black eyes were emerging. I felt awful. So much for the idea that I would be getting back to work! Hurried emails were sent to my boss and a few coworkers to let them know I was disappearing for the day. The cold progressed (by the way, I do not advise nasal surgery and a cold at the same time!) and soon I had a cough and laryngitis along with sinuses stuffed with cement. This required another email – I cannot remember a time I’ve ever taken two sick days in a row – and another day in front of the TV.
I got my first look at the repair work that afternoon, when I could take off the bandage. It was not pretty. I now understood the “scar revision” comment. My poor appendage was still badly swollen and very red. Thank goodness for work from home accommodations.
I did drag myself to my computer for a few hours on Thursday and Friday but it was tough going. I couldn’t contribute vocally to any conversation and I was nowhere near 100 percent. I thought the weekend would be enough to get me across the finish line, but at this point I was concerned about all kinds of things – thank you Dr. Google – from bronchitis to strep. And my nose still looked awful. A panicky call to the surgeon’s office gave me a quick visit on Saturday and she assured me everything’s was on track for the stitches to come out two days later, but I”m clearly going to need a lot of concealer for a while. Thank goodness for post-COVID work from home allowances, where I could hide my face while the bruises hellowed and slid down my cheeks
Three weeks later, the redness is my nose is slowly receding, but my voice isn’t quite back to normal. Maybe it’s the triple whammy – the shock of the diagnosis, the invasive surgery and the cold – that’s made my body say, “ENOUGH!”. It just feels like it’s all taking far too long.
Why do I tell you all this? I guess because despite all the negatives of the past weeks, it’s a real win for me that I was selfish. I took the time I needed and didn’t feel (too) guilty about doing absolutely nothing for the better part of a week – and even an afternoon nap one day much later. I”m learning to listen to my body. And despite the reasons it was required, I’m going to make sure I do it more in the future.
How fresh this is to read an honest account of day-to-day struggles and triumphs of a middle-aged woman like me. And how telling it is to realize so many of us continue to throw ourselves into family and work at our age without taking care of ourselves first. Thanks for sharing.